


Live Connection

by LinksLipsSinkShips



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Angst, Camboy!Link, Consensual sex work, First Person, First Relationship, Jealousy, Long Distance Relationship, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mentions Of Infidelity, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Porn Watching, Risky Behavior, Sex Work, Sex work related slurs, Short Chapters, Stream of Consciousness, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-29 12:49:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 115
Words: 87,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15073514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinksLipsSinkShips/pseuds/LinksLipsSinkShips
Summary: Rhett's just a college kid looking for some good porn. Link is a camboy looking for loyal fans and good money. When Link goes live, the pair feels an interesting connection.





	1. Prologue

Girls in porn are so fake. Seriously, have you ever watched them? They seem so insanely fake to me. It’s like their over-the-top moaning and whining is so scripted and phony, their little squeaks and squeals annoying. It grates on my nerves. I mean, do you really think that’s how a girl acts during a blowjob? I doubt it.

I mean, I don’t exactly have  _ personal  _ experience there. The one time a girl offered, I thought about how then I’d have to reciprocate, and it kinda freaked me out, the thought of getting all up close and personal with, y’know… so I kind of convinced her to just keep making out. By the time I got myself all hyped up for it, she dumped me. But that’s not the point. Girls in porn are fake.

Take a guy giving a guy a blowjob, for example. Not that it’s something I watch that often, but sometimes when you’re looking for good porn and waiting for that hot DP action in a bisexual porn video, you end up catching glimpses of other stuff, you know? Guys giving guys head don’t moan and squeal and all that. They just take it, sometimes choke on it, but it’s not so over-the-top.

I’m just saying. I’m totally into girls, you know? And that’s why I wish the girls in porn would not be that fake. Can you blame me? I’m just a guy, looking for some good porn to get off to. It shouldn’t be as difficult as it is. This isn’t really a huge request. Isn’t porn basically  _ made  _ for guys to be into? So you’d think they’d take that into account… the fact that guys just aren’t into all that fake moaning and groaning. I mean, are they? I’m not.

Finding good porn is hard. I feel like everything is just a repeat of the same few things I’ve already seen, and I feel like there has to be more to sex than that. There has to be more than just girls going down on guys, then girls getting fucked by guys, then guys coming all over a girl’s face. Not that I have a problem with any of that. I don’t. It’s all hot or whatever. I’m just… bored with it. I want to find something different.

That’s kind of how I got into the bisexual porn stuff. I’m not bisexual or anything. I just like that it’s something new. Seeing a girl take two dicks at once is pretty fantastic. I mean, yeah, you kind of have to sit through the guys getting it on or whatever, but at least you get to see the girl managing one in her ass  _ and  _ her pussy at the same time. That has to feel absolutely ridiculous and tight, you know? The only downside would be like, feeling the other dude’s dick when you fuck her or whatever, but still… it’s pretty hot to watch both of those cocks sliding in and out of her.

I’m just a guy, looking for some really good porn on the internet. Is that really too much to ask? Seriously, if you have some suggestions, let me know. Because what I’m looking at? It’s not that great. PornHub only has so much to offer these days.


	2. Pop Ups

Have you ever looked at the ads on the sides of porn sites? I mean  _ really  _ looked at them? Outside of the ones offering to help you grow your dick and stuff (trust me, I have nothing to worry about there, thanks), there are some pretty interesting ones. Like live camgirls and stuff. I always thought that you had to pay to watch the live cams until one day when I accidentally clicked on one of the ads. Turns out, you can watch for free, but they only do extra stuff if you tip.

Anyway, I was browsing the cam shows and looking for something hot. I figured maybe I’d be able to find a girl doing something new and exciting, or someone messing around with her friend or whatever. Then I found this guy and he was getting himself off, but it was totally weird. He had his hand kind of overhand, wrapped around his dick, so it kind of almost looked like someone else was doing it for him.

I’ve never seen anyone move their hand like that before, stroke themselves with that sort of position or movement. I mean, I don’t exactly make a habit of watching guys get off, so it’s probably pretty common, but I’ve personally never tried it. That’s why I’m sitting here, hand around my dick, trying to figure out what he’s doing.

It’s science, you know? If this is a better way to get off, I want to know about it. I want to try it. And god, it really does feel good. It seriously is like someone else’s hand because it kind of puts your thumb toward your body, your hand on top of your cock, I don’t know how to explain it, it’s just really great. It’s hard not to get off when you’re stroking yourself like that, a nice grip doing a lot of good to help things along.

I mean, whatever this guy’s doing seems to be working for him, because even though he keeps pausing to draw it out, get more tips or somethin’, he’s clearly feeling the effects of it. And seriously, watching his hand positions and trying to do the same thing, it’s got me close. Not him, of course, but like… his technique. It’s a good one. I’m pretty happy with how it feels, and I’m getting really, really close now. It’s obvious by the way I can feel my balls kind of pulsing, throbbing and aching like they just need a release.

I’m inching closer by the second, and my breathing is getting shallower. I know I’m really close to coming, getting off with this specific movement. As he rubs his pinky over the tip of his cock, I do the same thing, and when he uses his other hand to help himself, I try to do the same thing. He’s a little longer than me, or maybe his hands are just smaller compared to his dick, but that’s not the point. He’s managed to get his hands all over himself and I have to say, from a scientific perspective, the technique is doing everything I need it to, because just as he moves one of his hands down to his balls, gives them a gentle rub, then comes all over his stomach, I find myself doing the same, my leg muscles tightening, my body arching up off of the chair I’m in, my come splattering on my keyboard (not the easiest thing to clean up, dammit). It isn’t until after I’ve taken some deep breaths, after I hear him saying goodbye to the people watching and thanking them for their tips, that I realize I’m still watching. I shake my head and go to exit the stream right as his camera goes dark, and it’s pretty clear I need to erase my browsing history.

The last thing I need is someone getting the wrong idea about why I was watching this dude’s camshow. I wasn’t watching for him. I was watching because it’s never too late to learn a new technique. After all, I’m only 19, and I’ve clearly been jerking it wrong for about 6 years now, because damn, whatever he’s doing is way better than what I usually do. Taking notes is a good idea, and if I have to watch a guy’s cam stream for scientific purposes, well, you can’t call me gay for doing that.


	3. My Type

Now that I know you can watch cams for free, it’s kind of hard not to be drawn to them. Videos are great, but shows where you know they’re doing this right then and there? That’s hot. I mean, they’re on at all hours. Before class, middle of the night, doesn’t matter. There’s  _ always  _ someone streaming.

You’d think that would make it easier to find a good stream, right? To click on and find the perfect camshow right away. But honestly, I’m having trouble. I’ve been skipping from room to room and still haven’t found one that works for me yet. I mean, yeah, I’m hard or whatever, playing with myself while I click through, but it’s like half of the girls are too fake or some aren’t really my type, and some have like, these massive boobs. I’m more of a small breast dude. I mean, not itty bitty, but like, anything more than a handful just makes it seem like they’re going to waste, so it’s hard to care.

And some girls, they’re just so hairy… I have to question if they even trimmed at all before streaming. The others, they’re so bare that it’s a little creepy, like maybe they’re too young for it to be legal, so I skip past those right away. Trying to find a stream that works for me, that’s going to get me off or something, it’s kind of hard.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m picky, but I have my standards, and it seems like so many of these girls don’t live up to them. That’s not to say there’s anything wrong with ‘em or anything. They’ve all got plenty of fans willing to tip them for what they’re doing. And like, that’s great. I’m just having trouble finding the  _ right  _ one.

The ones that are pretty, or that seem like maybe they’d be okay, they’re talking too much, or they’re doing that over-acting stuff I hate in porn and I want to tell them to stop watching porn and be themselves. Some are so focused on their toys that I wonder if they’d even know what to do with their hands, and how am I ever going to learn how to touch a girl down there if I can’t even watch a girl do it herself? What am I going to do, be like “hey baby,” and pull out a vibrator? I’m not sure that’s entirely helpful.

I did find one girl, though. She’s kind of pretty, small, and a small chest, too. Her hair’s dark and it’s cut short, and she doesn’t wear any makeup. She doesn’t really talk, either, except to reply to a specific comment or remind people to tip, and that’s kind of nice. It’s hard not to focus on her face and her striking blue eyes, so I do, watching that more than anything.

I can feel my breath get quicker, and can feel my legs shake a little bit, and it doesn’t take very long for me to finish watching her stream, mostly because I’d been working myself for quite a while just to find her, but I go ahead and make a mental note of her channel name anyway. Since I only caught the tail end of my time by myself watching her, I really want to come back and catch a full show sometime.

At least my search ended alright, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Saturday. Feel free to let me know what you think Rhett's going to do next in the comments. <3


	4. Twitter Stalking

I wonder what point watching cams goes from being just like, a way to get off, and becomes an addiction. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m addicted or anything. I’m just wondering when you’d  _ classify  _ it that way.

I’m still getting shit done, you know? I’m going to class and getting my work done. But looking at cams is a good way to unwind and give myself a little break. But the thing is, I’m bored. I’m already sick of the way that the one kid was getting off on cam. Not that I’m not still trying it or anything… I’m just bored. So I’m thinking it might be worth it to check out his show again, just to see if he’d be doing something worth repeating.

I mean, a little bit of online stalking never hurt anyone, not if it was done in the name of science. I’m not saying I’d necessarily watch his show again, but does it really hurt for me to check out his twitter, see if he’s got some videos or something that I can learn other stuff from? He’s probably got a good video of him nailing another cam star, some chick he knows, or whatever, something I can learn a little from, or maybe he’s got another way of getting off that’s as decent as the last one was.

I’d totally avoid it altogether, or have forgotten all about him by now, but his name is super easy to remember. I mean, LincolnHighXXX? I have to assume it’s the high school he went to, or maybe some school he made up, but there’s no reason I can’t check it out. Either way, it’s easy to remember and it’s the same name for Twitter  _ and  _ Chaturbate, so finding him isn’t all that difficult.

For the most part, there’s nothing interesting on his Twitter at all. He posts short quips about his day, and a few make me chuckle. I mean, he’s the kind of guy I’d probably be friends with if I knew him in real life. Sometimes he posts other stuff, talks about waking, baking, masturbating. I get it now. Lincoln HIGH. Like he’s high. Or something.

If you scroll far enough down, there’s a video of him jerking it like he was on the stream. It’s interesting to watch, and easier to mimic his hand position since it’s not live. I can pause and scrutinize it. His hand, I mean, not his dick obviously.

I tried to do the same things he did, move like he did, but the video’s really short, too short for me to get the view I need to figure it out well enough. Instead, I’m scrolling through more of his feed, and honestly, he’s a decent guy. I mean, a tweet about looking for a place on Google Maps that’s the exact layout of the PacMan board kind of made me chuckle. Like I said, he seems like the kind of guy I could be friends with.

He also posts stuff like a building saying 420 on the side and a crying laughing emoji, and thinks “snazzy” is a great word, so he also seems sorta dumb or whatever, but he had some pictures on his feed. Most were morning wood shots that I didn’t spend much time looking at, but some of them were close-ups of his ass, and if I looked at them from a scientific angle, or tried to forget his ass was attached to him, I could see where that could be interesting. It’s easier to pretend he’s a hot girl if you can’t see his face, y’know?

All of that seemed a little bit complicated, though, so I just refreshed twitter instead. And yeah, he’s streaming now, and I probably didn’t need to know that. I kind of want to avoid it. It looks bad for me to keep looking at some dude’s stream. I mean, anyone viewing my browser history wouldn’t know I’m doing it for science, you know? But it isn’t like I have an account or anything. I’m completely anonymous on his end, and as long as I can clear my browser history as soon as I’m done, it doesn’t hurt to click, I guess.


	5. States of Undress

I can’t believe I was fucking stupid enough to sign up for an account. I mean, it’s about as anonymous as it possibly can be, my email even an anonymous temporary one, but gosh, I’m still kicking myself over the decision.

I mean, it’s not entirely my fault, you know? It’s just that I never realized how long a full camshow could be. I got on LincolnHighXXX’s show pretty early on, since he’d just posted about it, and honestly, it felt like it was going to go on forever. It was going to take forever to get to the part I needed to see, the part where he was getting off so I could copy his movement or see if he showed off anything new.

I’m a busy guy, you know? I’ve got practice, class, studying, spending time with my friends, stuff like that. I don’t have time to sit here and watch a dude for three hours just to see how he gets off. I’m really only here for the good part, and no, I don’t mean so I can see his dick or whatever. That’s not what gets me off or anything. I’m there to see how he’s doing it, his technique so I can get some fresh ideas, and dang it, for so long he was literally just sitting on a couch in his clothes.

That’s not what I’m there for. If I wanted to watch some dude sit there and talk to a camera, I probably wouldn’t be on Chaturbate. Not that I’m on there to watch a dude get off, not like  _ that,  _ at least. But if I’m there to get an idea of how he gets off, then yeah, I’m actually wanting to  _ see  _ that, and not sit there and watch him sit there in his clothes, y’know?

He’d been sitting there for a long time saying he was going to take his shirt off when he got to 1,000 tokens in tips. I didn’t figure that would take long, but it took like 15 minutes for people to even tip him enough to get his shirt off. It was absolutely ridiculous. And then it was even longer to get his pants off and have him down to his briefs, and once he was wearing those, he was just chilling, all hard in his briefs, waiting and waiting and waiting to hit 5,000 in tips. It was almost as if the people watching didn’t actually want to see him naked or something. I mean, I didn’t want to see him naked, but I kind of  _ had  _ to in order to get off.

And that’s what led me to this point, spending money on a stupid fucking cam site so I could get him to take his damn clothes off already so I could scientifically research how he jacks off because it’s  _ weird _ , and yeah, actually a really good way to get off.

Seriously, the tips sat at like 4,900 for-freaking-ever, and my roommates are going to be back soon, and someone has to tip him over the edge to get naked, and that’s why I ended up doing it. I didn’t  _ want  _ to get an account, and I didn’t want to pay for a stupid camshow, but yeah, I’ve got my credit card number plugged in now because what other choice do I even have?

At least he’s naked now. Now I can watch as he gets off, and since he isn’t going to actually come until he gets another 6,000 tokens in tips, then I have a feeling I’m going to have plenty of time to see exactly how he does it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know, y'all. Go read one of my better fics or something. I'm begging you.


	6. In the Act

You know what’s absolutely fucking nuts? When you pay for someone to take their fucking clothes off, you literally sit there trying to scrutinize their masturbatory techniques, and then before you can finish, your stupid roommates come back. Honestly, are you kidding me?

Thank god I remembered to lock the door and heard the keys so I could click away so they wouldn’t see what I was watching, but holy shit, that was a close call I was not entirely there for. No one would understand my explanation as to why I was watching what I was watching, and you can’t exactly ask your roommate “hey, how do you jack off?” because if you do, they’ll probably look at you like you’re insane and that would be dumb.

But I managed to click away, get onto a stream with some girl who was more annoying than hot, Pam Anderson kinda figure with the big fake knockers and stuff. I didn’t have time to get my pants on or even delete my browsing history, so changing cams was really the only chance I had at things  _ not  _ being weird. And yeah, now I’ve got blue balls from not getting to finish, but I lost my hard-on pretty quickly getting walked in on anyway.

Maybe I’ll just go take a shower or something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Wednesday with a new bit.


	7. If The Shower Walls Could Talk

It wasn’t like I was planning to get off when I got into the shower, but my balls were seriously fucking aching, man. Someone walks in on you getting off and then you can’t and you’re having to wait? It’s the worst feeling. Blue balls are a real thing, man. I’ve been dying for over an hour waiting. My roommate came in needing to talk about some stupid bullshit, and even though I was trying to listen and focus on whatever he was saying, I was crawling out of my fuckin’ skin wanting to jerk off.

So yeah, I did what I planned on and jumped into the shower. What else was I supposed to do? I figured a cold shower would knock the frustration right out of me, but as soon as I started to wash my dick, damn, all hope was kind of lost. I couldn’t do anything but wrap my hand around it, yeah? 

It’s hard not to think about LincolnHigh and his stupid stream when I’m trying to. I’m not thinking about him, obviously. I’m thinking about how he’s got his hand on himself, how he runs his fingers over the tip of his dick. He’s got this really weird habit of playing with his precome and licking it off of his fingers, which seems a little gay (no judgment or anything). I mean, isn’t tasting a dude, even if the dude is you at least a little bit gay?

But it did get me thinking: I’ve never actually  _ tasted  _ myself before. What would I even taste like? Like if a girl were giving me head or whatever, I’d want it to taste good, right? I know pineapple could help me with that, make it taste better or something, but that isn’t the point right now. The point is, if a girl were in the shower with me, sucking my dick, what would she be tasting? I wouldn’t want to be embarrassed and it taste horrible or anything. So yeah, I tasted. Get over it.

It’s not as weird as I expected it to be. It’s kind of vaguely salty, more than I expected it might be. I mean, I’m not going to make a habit of licking my fingers when I jerk off, and I’m probably not ever going to taste my actual come or anything, but it’s not really a bad idea to know what you’re forcing someone else to put up with if they’re going down, you know? Not that I’d really know yet or anything, but sometime eventually, I’m going to find someone willing. I just haven’t found a girl that seems right yet.

It feels amazing to touch, to run my fingers over the tip like LincolnHigh does, and then before I know it, my legs are shaking as the water is running down my body. Part of me is wondering if he ever does this for the hell of it, like if now that he’s paid to get off, does he stick to only doing it on camera or does he do it for fun? I can’t really imagine getting off with hundreds of strangers staring at me, but it obviously works for him.

I’m not really sure what it is about it all, but when I’m thinking about it, I’m having a hard time not coming. I can feel myself tensing up and I know it’s from the lack of release earlier, not from thinking about whether or not LincolnHigh gets off, that somehow I’m painting the shower walls white with my come. I’m struggling to stand up because I’ve come so hard, and for a moment or two, I sink down onto the shower floor so I can take a few deep breaths.

I didn’t mean to touch the shower wall to steady myself, but now pulling my hand away from the wall, it’s unavoidable. I’ve got come on my hand.

  
And yeah, I tasted it. Whatever. It’s not  _ that  _ weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think Rhett will EVER get out of his denial? See you Saturday.


	8. New Follower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link's got a new twitter follower.

I followed him on Twitter. I mean, nobody knows it’s me or anything. It’s not my  _ real  _ account. It’s a stupid throwaway account, some anon thing that doesn’t have anything about me attached to it.

And I’m not following him to be some sort of stan or anything, so please don’t get the wrong idea here. I’m not following in some weird sorta gay way. It’s just… okay, I don’t know. I know that I don’t give off major virgin vibes, and it’s not like anyone  _ knows,  _ but I haven’t really found the right time, or the right person, or the right… whatever. I don’t have to justify this at all. So I have this account and sometimes I follow porn and stuff on there. I kind of feel like, and yeah, I know porn isn’t real sex okay, but I feel like if I watch that sort of stuff, maybe I won’t completely fail when I do end up having sex. Jeez.

And the thing is, yeah, I’m kind of sick of defending the fact that his shows get me off. I mean, we all know it’s not really about him, and having to restate that kinda feels like I’m protesting too much or something, and that’s not the case. It’s about his fuckin’ hands or something. I don’t  _ know,  _ okay? And if you haven’t seen one of his shows, you can’t judge me. They’re just chill. He’s got music on or whatever and it’s good music, okay? It’s just chill kind of stuff, and it’s not all about him getting off. He’ll literally just sit and talk to people, you know? Yesterday it was him chilling and talking about how he watched this show on the moon landing (which is funny, because it’s like he doesn’t even know the conspiracy there or something), and was talking about astronauts and stars and some shit. Like he’s a normal dude when he’s not jacking off on the camera, and I like his general vibe.

And yeah, eventually he took his clothes off, but it’s like it’s not even  _ about  _ that. He doesn’t get on cam naked and jack off and it’s over. He talks. He hangs out. He eventually gets naked and comes so hard it hits the camera like it did yesterday. I don’t know. There’s just something that makes it hard for me to not want to catch his shows sometimes. Outside of all of the sex and that bullshit, and outside of the fact that he does some fucking voodoo magic nonsense with his hands, it honest-to-god is entertaining to spend an hour or so just watching him talk to people who interact in chat.

Besides, it’s not like I turned on twitter notifications or anything for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Wednesday. If I'm a little late posting the next chapter, it's because I'm traveling back home this week (I've been out of state taking care of an ill family member) so don't hate me if it's not up until like, Thursday or something...


	9. Just the Tip

Tipping cam stars is kind of weird. Like, they all have their different things they do when you tip. Some of them just kind of assume the tip is something toward the ultimate goal, but LincolnHigh has a system. You tip, and he’ll do something special. Like, if you tip 30 coins, he’ll stand up and show off his ass. If you tip 333, he’ll do a shot.

It’s pretty clear on some nights that the people watching just want to see him get completely wasted because you’ll see 333 pop up again and again, and that’s so dumb. I mean, sure, let him have fun, but is that really why any of these people are here watching?

I wasn’t planning on tipping, y’know? And I didn’t tip to see anything specific. It had just been a while since anybody had tipped anything and I figured that getting him closer to his goal would get me closer to, uh, my goal, because right now he wasn’t even shirtless.

I tipped 45 coins, and he heard the little chime and buzz. “Hey, thanks, bballSlayer!” I don’t know why, but I blushed. I guess because the first time I ever tipped him, he didn’t really notice because it just got him to his goal, so it didn’t really matter? But this time he was watching and he said something, and it was weird. “45, 45… oh! A dick flash. I can do that.” LincolnHigh pulled his sweats down, showing off his hard cock and wiggling his hips back and forth to sway it a little. It’s a good thing the camera wasn’t two-way because I visibly, literally facepalmed. I didn’t mean for him to flash his dick. I was just tipping and forgot to look at the tip menu or whatever it’s called. If I would have known, I would have tipped a different amount. I’m not here to see his dick. Fuck.

It didn’t matter, though. He tucked himself away pretty quickly. After all, why leave it out when people still need to tip to get his clothes off? A few people tipped after that and he showed off his ass or his feet, then he spanked himself a few times which was kind of weird to watch.

I don’t know how long I’ve watched for, how long I’ve been staring at the screen, but the anticipation is probably going to kill me. But the thing is, now nobody’s tipping. I think because we can see him sitting there and he’s naked now, and all of them are trying to delay gratification. I can’t resist, though. I push a tip through. We’ve gotta get this over with.

I mean to type 100 coins, but suddenly I’ve hit submit and it’s pretty clear I tipped 1,000. Fuck.

“Wow, you’re feeling generous tonight, bballSlayer. Looks like you just bought yourself a custom video. I’ll have my mod unlock your DM privileges and you can tell me what you want, okay, cutie?” He winked at the camera and I swear to god, my stomach was somewhere near my throat. I didn’t mean to buy a private video. I just wanted to get this show over with so I could finish.

But now that I’ve bought it, I guess I need to decide what I want...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think Rhett will ever fully be out of denial? Feel free to yell at me in the comments or over on tumblr.


	10. Custom

**bballSlayer: So how does this work?**

_ LincolnHighXXX: you tell me what you want and i make a video _

_ LincolnHighXXX: i try to keep them under around 10 minutes tho _

**bballSlayer: You don’t have any other rules or limits or anything like that?**

**bballSlayer: I mean, I’m not going to ask for anything weird. I just figured you’d have more rules.**

_ LincolnHighXXX: i can always tell you no if i’m not down for it, but mostly i only ever tell people no if they want a couples vid with a girl in it _

**bballSlayer: You don’t do videos with girls?**

_ LincolnHighXXX: hahahahahaha _

_ LincolnHighXXX: seriously tho, just think about it and tell me _

**bballSlayer: What about a video of you jerking off?**

_ LincolnHighXXX: me jerking off and…? _

**bballSlayer: and?**

_ LincolnHighXXX: that’s it? you just want me jackin’ it for 10 minutes? no self-sucking or dildos or putting ice cream on my dick? you just want me to jerk off? _

_ LincolnHighXXX: i can if that’s what you want _

_ LincolnHighXXX: hello? _

**bballSlayer: Ice cream? No, just… jerking off is cool.**

_ LincolnHighXXX: okay _

_ LincolnHighXXX: whats ur name _

**bballSlayer: James**

 

I thought about it. I didn’t really want to give him my real name, but then I realized what it was probably for. It was probably to customize the video, to ensure somehow that he wasn’t sending the same video to everyone with that request, to make sure I got what I paid for, and then I thought it would be weird to hear him saying some other name… and besides, the whole exchange was weird enough as it is. I was tempted to tell him to keep the tip and forget the video, that I didn’t need it, especially when he started asking about weird shit that I might want him to do…

 

**bballSlayer: I mean Rhett**

_ LincolnHighXXX: which is it? _

**bballSlayer: Rhett. Sorry.**

_ LinlcolnHighXXX: it’s cool. Whats ur email so i can send it to you? _

**bballSlayer: bballSlayer187@mymailsbox.com**

_ LincolnHighXXX: sweet. I’ll probably send it tomorrow unless you need it right away. I’m pretty sure i’m just gonna pass out tonight _

**bballSlayer: Whenever’s fine. I’m not really in a hurry at all for it.**

_ LinlconlHighXXX: Cool. Thanks for the tip, babe. ;) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, maybe Rhett will get his shit together eventually. Think so? Feel free to come yell at me in the comments or on tumblr about this or anything else. And uh, more coming Wednesday.


	11. You've Got Mail

It’s been like 16 hours. He hasn’t been streaming, so he’s probably just sleeping or whatever, and I don’t  _ really  _ care about the video, but it cost a lot of money, you know?

Anyway, I was flipping through Chaturbate, mostly so if LincolnHigh was on, I could ask him what’s up with the video, but he wasn’t on. Some other dude was on, and I don’t know why I clicked but I did. I mean, if LincolnHigh can give me new ideas about how to jerk off, maybe another guy can, too? So I clicked. And yeah, it’s kind of dumb. Like… watching some dude’s stream. I mean, it turns out that he’s no LincolnHigh. He’s boring, and his show isn’t that great to watch. He’s hairier and older, and I’m sure it’s appealing to someone… maybe I’m just picky. I decided to switch to a girl cam after that, but then I just turned it off. No point in watching, because what if I accidentally tip too much again and end up with some other custom video? Seems like a waste of money to me, so it’s safer to just shut down my laptop and be done.

I was seriously so close to closing my computer and turning it all off when I heard my email ding. And even then I kind of thought about it. I mean do I really want to look? Do I really want to open this email and see what he sent and realize that I literally spent like $80 on a ten minute video of a guy jacking off?

And then I have to wonder what that says about me. I mean, sure, I didn’t mean to tip that much or buy that video. Or hell, maybe I did, maybe my subconscious was like  _ add the extra zero, dumbass _ , but regardless, it wasn’t really intentional. I didn’t mean to buy it. But I did and it seems kind of dumb not to look.

I really don’t know what to do. I’m staring it down, I’m looking at it, and yeah, it’s from him. LincolnHighXXX. Right there in my inbox. Fuck fuck fuck. What do I do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget our fun new posting schedule at YOUR request, 3 days per week. Come back Thursday for more, then every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.


	12. Watching the Video

It’s fifteen minutes long. Not 10. Fifteen whole minutes. And I can’t seem to tear my eyes away. He’s running his hand up the length of it, and he’s moaning a little bit. Not in a fake way, but in a way that seems like he’s really enjoying this.

“God, Rhett this feels so good…”

It’s weird to hear him say my name, to hear his voice say that like he’s talking to me. And he  _ is  _ talking to me. And that’s so strange.

“Are you touching yourself, baby? You got your hand wrapped around yourself just like that?”

It’s like he can read my mind, like he knows I’ve been mimicking what he’s been doing, like he knows that I touch myself while I watch how he does it. I’m sure this is what he says to everyone, but it still feels personal, feels like he knows.

“It’s such a turn on thinking about you stroking yourself, so I really hope you are. You going to get off with me, sexy? Fuck, Rhett, I love that you tipped so much in my chat out of nowhere like that… you must really like me…”

I want to tell him it’s an accident, talk to the screen and say I didn’t mean to.

He’s playing with his precome, licking it off of his fingers, and I can see him sliding his fingers in and out of his mouth all deep… he’s got three of them all the way in his mouth until his eyes are watering a little bit and I can’t help but superimpose my dick into that mental picture. I’m shaking my head like an etch-a-sketch, trying to clear the picture but I can’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why I’m so wrapped up in this and in what he’s doing and I don’t know why I suddenly want him to be doing that to me but I’m trying hard not to overthink it.

“Tipping that much, you must really like the thought of me inside of you…” LincolnHigh strokes himself some more then, and I’m shaking my head. I don’t like that thought. I don’t. I’m sure I don’t like the thought of him doing that because I can’t, right?

But now that his fingers are all slicked up, he’s seeming to have other ideas because I’m watching as he rocks back a little and oh my god, I’m so hard, why am I so hard? And he slides a finger inside of himself. “Or maybe, Rhett, you want to be inside of me. I can do it either way, big boy… any way you want me.” He’s got another finger inside of himself and I know right now he’s encouraging me to picture fucking him but for some reason, I’m focused on what he’s doing and how it has to feel, so instead I’m spitting on my hand, oh god, why am I doing this?

There’s a twinge of pain when you first slide your fingers into yourself if you’ve never done it before. I mean, I’m sure that people who are into it probably know that but I didn’t. Nobody ever told me because I’ve never been into it. But I’m watching him and he’s worked a third finger inside of himself and he’s groaning my name and I’ve got a finger inside of me, just one, but I’m trying to do what he’s doing, and then suddenly everything goes white.

I don’t see him on the laptop. I don’t see my room. All I can feel is this mind-blowing, earth-shaking, body-quaking feeling I’ve never felt before and I am coming. I’m coming harder than I’ve ever come in my life. And holy shit, why did no one ever tell me that this would feel this good? I’m in a daze and the only thing that snaps me out of it is Link telling me how good it feels, and then telling me thank you and then groaning my name… he’s saying “Rhett, fuck, yeah, just like that, oh my god, Rhett” and I’m back to reality for a moment but not to watch, just to turn it off and close my computer and curl up in my bed because  _ what the actual fuck just happened? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Saturday with more. Feel free to yell at me in the comments or over on tumblr! <3


	13. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhett's watched the video and now he's a little bit overwhelmed by what happened.

I’m sore after. I don’t know how Link could manage three fingers because one made me fucking sore. But the thing is, there’s this part of me that wants to do it again, wants to know why that was so powerful and so intense and why I wanted to scream and convulse and lose my entire mind over what just happened.

And now I’ve got a problem because I’ve been lying in bed and I don’t have the video on anymore, I don’t, but I can still hear him moaning my name and it’s got me hard. I’m so confused and I want to cry but I can’t because I don’t understand what’s happening to me. There’s something about him and about this and about what he’s doing that has me worked up and I’m mad. I’m mad at myself for wanting this, for liking this, and wondering what my family would think, what my friends would think that I can’t get my mind off of some stupid guy.

It’s not supposed to be like this. I’m not supposed to be thinking about him. I’m supposed to grow up and get super turned on by a girl I meet at a party or in class or at church or some shit like that and I’m supposed to fall head over heels for her and marry her and make out with her and then have babies with her and instead I can’t get this guy off of my mind, can’t stop hearing his voice say my name.

Maybe I need a break. Maybe I need to delete my accounts and disappear and forget any of this ever happened. Maybe I need to go find a girl because maybe once I hook up with one, all of this will go away and it’ll be like it never happened.

There’s just one problem: I can’t remember ever actually being attracted to one, now that I think about it. All I can remember is him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come at me on Twitter or in the comments if you wanna. What do you think is going to happen next?


	14. On Repeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett's overcoming his need for space after seeing the video, but has he reached acceptance yet?

I tried taking a break. I seriously did, and for a few days I was able to. I don’t know, I couldn’t clear my head like I thought I’d be able to. All it did was make things worse. I’d wake up hard and aching and I’d get in the shower and I’d jack off, and yeah, I’d work a finger into my ass because somehow it feels really fucking good.

And the thing is, the first few times I did it I was just curious but now I’m wondering, is this what he likes? Is this what he enjoys doing, putting his fingers in himself, and yeah, he talked about how much he wanted me to be inside of him in the video, or how he wanted to be inside of me, and I  _ know,  _ okay? I know that this is just what he says or some script he’s got memorized and he does this with everyone. I know my video isn’t fucking special, alright? But it doesn’t mean I can’t think about it, that I haven’t been thinking in the shower about how yeah, I do kinda want to be inside of him and yeah, for some fucked-up reason, I want to know what it feels like to have him inside of me, or  _ something  _ inside of me besides my fingers, and yeah, that makes me feel really fucking weird and guilty and fucked-up on so many levels but you know what? It’s fucking 2018, and yeah, gay people are out there and I’m not… I’m NOT… saying I’m one of them. I’m just saying that I’m not going to kick myself for attraction to ONE dude, okay? I’m not.

So after a few days break, and after not being able to stop thinking about the stupid video, I’m watching it again. Fine, okay, I watched it a few times during my break. No one can judge me for that. I paid a lot of fucking money for that video, so it would be stupid if I didn’t watch it once in a while… or something.

And the way he comes with my name on his ragged, heaving breaths and the way he’s basically riding his goddamn fingers and the way he looks so broken and needy at the end is a  _ lot  _ for me. It’s hard for me not to want that, to know what he’d do if he could be riding me instead, to know what he’d look like and how he’d talk to me and moan over me and… fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Thursday with the next bit. Feel free to yell at me in the comments or over on tumblr.


	15. Small World

“Hey, bballSlayer, thanks for the tip, baby… man, I haven’t seen you in a few days. Thought you left me or something,” LincolnHigh is saying on the stream, and it feels weird. He remembered me. He remembered that I haven’t been there for a few days… he fucking  _ noticed  _ and that’s so weird. “50 tokens… hmmm… oh nice,” he’s saying. I know what I tipped for this time. I do. For the first time ever, I looked at the tip menu and I tipped on  _ purpose _ . And I watch as he turns around, slides his underwear down because he hasn’t reached the second goal yet, and right in front of the camera, he spreads his ass apart and I can see it. I can get a really, really good look at his hole and… I don’t know why I’m looking. I don’t know. I think a part of me wanted to know if there was something special about it that allowed him to get so many fingers inside of himself, and there’s not. It doesn’t look any different than any other one that I’ve seen on a stream. But I also guess it makes it hard for me not to think about wanting to touch it, feel it, something.

“That good for you, bballSlayer? What you wanted to see? You’re such a good tipper…” he says, tugging his underwear back up and sitting back on the couch, lighting his bong again and breathing in.

“I’m getting awfully close to that second goal, y’all,” he says, and it’s the first time I really sense his accent. It hits me that he sounds like he could be from here. He’s probably not, I’d never be that lucky, but I kind of feel like he might be close.

 

**bballSlayer: Where are you from? That accent sounds southern.**

 

“Where am I from? I’m from North Carolina, bballSlayer.”

Fuckfuckfuck, that’s where I’m from. That’s where I live. That’s where I’m going to school. He’s from  _ here.  _ What if… what if he’s close? Hell, what if he goes to my school? What if he lives near me? Oh my god.

“I mean, I moved away from there a few months ago, but it’s still home for sure. Where are you from, cutie?”

_ Dammit _ . He’s not here anymore. He’s not anywhere near here probably.

“Aww, you shy, bballSlayer? Not going to tell me? That’s okay, how about you tell me privately. Your DM privileges should still be open, baby.”

Oh my god, they didn’t take my DM privileges away after I bought the video. I know they don’t like to keep DMs open all the time, I know he has to get a ton.  I’m sure of it. But I take the chance, and I DM him.

 

**bballSlayer: I’m from NC, too. Still live here, though.**

_ LincolnHighXXX: No way! What part? _

 

I don’t want to tell him what part. I mean, I don’t know why I don’t want to tell him. He’s practically internet famous, or at least camshow famous, so it’s not like he’d have the time or the desire to stalk me or anything. But there’s something about it, something about the fact that he already knows my name and I can’t stay anonymous, that’s got me really nervous.

 

_ LincolnHighXXX: Too shy to share? You don’t have to tell me. I went to NC State for a couple of months but then I dropped out to move out here. Anyway, guess I better pay attention to my cam, hadn’t I? _

 

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. He went to my school. And I mean, he went to my school WHILE I went to school here. Fuck fuck fuck.

 

**bballSlayer: ...I go to NC State.**

_ LincolnHighXXX: Whoa. Small world, cutie. Too bad we didn’t know each other while I was there ;) _

 

Oh my god. Oh my fucking god he is actually implying he might have been willing to meet me if he still lived here while I was here. I don’t know what to do with that. I… it’s really overwhelming. I’m just going to get offline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Saturday. Come yell at me on tumblr or in the comments if you wanna.


	16. Chapter 16

If I’m being honest, I was so spooked I went offline for days. It hit me that I’m so tall he might’ve seen me while I was on campus here. I’ve been going back and forth for days on whether or not to even open his stream again, but it’s clear: I keep going back. I always fucking keep going back and it’s a problem.

Short of getting my brain completely wiped of him, I’m stuck in this cycle. Part of me thinks I need to go to a priest and have an exorcism and the other part of me is painfully aware that that’s not even how it works, is it? Like you can’t go get exorcised of a thought or a person, even if it feels like that thought is eating you alive from the inside out.

Part of me is mad at him. Mad that he’s from here, mad that I saw his stupid stream in the first place, mad that I got sucked in, mad that I spent money, mad that he recognizes me. But it doesn’t matter. I  _ have  _ to log back in.

When I first logged in, I meant to just watch. I meant to just stare and look and not make my presence known. That seems to be what gets me in trouble every time. But he’s right there and I can’t help but realize he looks  _ so  _ good and I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t. I don’t know what I’m thinking or why I’m thinking it but I’m tired… I’m so freaking tired of policing my own thoughts on him. So I’m staring. And then I’m tipping.

“bballSlayer, you’re back! I was getting worried about you,” he’s saying with a wink.  _ Fuck.  _ I hate that he recognizes me. I hate that he remembers me. I hate that he says things like that where it seems like he misses more than just the tip I’ve given him. “Was so worried about you that I think you should just pick something from the tip menu,” he offers. And that’s when I know I’m fucked.

 

**bballSlayer: Your choice?**

 

I’m stunned and don’t know what to ask for, so I decide not to ask for anything. He’s already naked by the time I’ve gotten on the stream, slowly stroking himself and waiting for enough tips to come.

“My choice? I have something in mind. Stay on after the stream, okay?”

 

**bballSlayer: okay**

 

He doesn’t do anything for my tip right away and I’m assuming that whatever he wants to do, I’m going to have to wait for. I’ve got my hand in my pants and I’m dying for some kind of release, and I’m watching him, watching his every move, and I’m waiting for people to tip so he can come, but no one is tipping. Finally someone tips a tiny little amount and I can tell he’s straining, edging, impatient for some reason. I’m sure it’s that this has gone on too long and that’s why he’s antsy. So I give another tip. Not a lot this time… I’m rapidly running out of the budget to fuel this habit. Part of that’s because I spent way more than I should have on that video, even though I’ve gotten plenty of use from it. Most of it is that I keep tipping, little bits here and there, only 10 or 20 at a time when he’s close to a goal and just can’t seem to get there. Like seed tips. Like if I tip maybe someone else will know to tip, someone who is lurking.

But you know, I can’t sustain that forever. Then someone swoops in, tips 100 tokens, and he’s 10 away from his tip goal. Once he hits that 10, he can come. Once he hits that 10, we can talk.

So I tip 10 more.

“Thanks, bballSlayer, I’ve been edging for so long now. Been dying for that last tip to send me over the edge. How about a little treat for everyone?”

I don’t know what he means by it, but I can’t wait to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Schedule change for Live Connection this week because of my doctor's appointment. I'll be posting it Tuesday and Wednesday instead of Tuesday and Thursday. See you Tuesday with the next installment.


	17. Ride

The last thing I expect when he says a “little” treat is a large dildo. But he pulls it out like he’s been waiting the whole time to show it off or something. “I think you’re especially going to like this one, bballSlayer,” he says, like he thinks that this is what I want. I mean, it isn’t exactly something I  _ don’t  _ want, but it’s also not like I’ve specifically requested this.

He lifts himself off of his chair and places it in his seat, guiding it into himself. I can’t breathe. I’m watching as it goes deeper into him. He’s taking a deep breath and he’s exhaling as he goes nice and slow, groaning and steadying himself on the chair. He had to get up so high to get on it that I can’t see his face, not at first, but when he sinks down on it, it’s twisted in pleasure, or pain, or maybe both, but mostly pleasure.

“Ahhh, fuck,” he’s saying, and I’m overwhelmed. I can’t stop touching myself, and I’m going  _ hard  _ to match his pace as he rides it. Once he’s got it in, he doesn’t seem as timid or slow… he’s riding it like he’s been dying for it, and to be honest, it’s been a long show without as many tips as usual, so yeah, he must be. He’s got this insane coordination to get himself off while he bounces on it and I’m coming on the keyboard before he can even finish.

But he said he was going to talk to me after, said he wanted to talk about a tip reward, so I have to wipe it down. As I’m cleaning it up, he’s coming and I’m frozen in place watching the way he looks, and I’m pretty sure I am the only person on the stream who hears him whisper my name -- my actual name. It’s so quiet that I’d think it was in my imagination if his lips didn’t sort of just barely move at the very time he says it.

I know he’s just teasing me. He doesn’t even know anything about me aside from my tips.

But that doesn’t matter when he’s teasing me on purpose.

“Thanks, everybody. Seriously. That was… that was good…” He’s slid the dildo out of himself, discarded it to the side, and he’s focusing on the camera, his breathing still heavy. “I’ll see y’all tomorrow, okay? Later.” The stream goes black but my DMs light up.

 

_ LincolnHighXXX: You’re still here, right? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget that this week's schedule is a little different and I'll be updating this TOMORROW, not Thursday. See you then.


	18. In Private

I’m taking deep breaths like the room is short on oxygen.

 

**bballSlayer: I’m here.**

_ LincolnHighXXX: good. my choice, huh? u really don’t know what u wanted to see on the stream? _

**bballSlayer: I don’t know.**

_ LincolnHighXXX: i know what i want _

**bballSlayer: What?**

_ LincolnHighXXX: i want to know why u keep disappearing on me. getting bored? _

 

He seems weirdly possessive and strange about me disappearing. He has gobs of fans so I don’t know why I stand out to him or why he’d want to know where I’ve been. I wonder if he’s like this with everyone.

 

**bballSlayer: Not bored. Just need a break.**

_ LincolnHighXXX: a break from what? _

 

I don’t know how to respond, don’t know how to tell him that I need a break from this, from him, from the overwhelming feelings I’ve got and the way he confuses the shit out of me even if I  _ do  _ know this isn’t real and he doesn’t even fucking know me and to him, I’m just some stupid fan who tips a lot.

 

**bballSlayer: I mean, my wallet needed a break. Haha**

 

It’s a lame excuse but maybe he’ll buy it, maybe he’ll believe that it’s the tips. Because I mean, it is. I’m gonna go broke tipping him. I’ve already spent way too much on him. But I can’t feel badly about doing that and I can’t possibly pretend to myself that it’s the only reason I needed a break.

 

_ LincolnHighXXX: ur really generous and i really appreciate it. that’s what i wanted to talk to u about. _

**bballSlayer: What do you mean?**

_ LincolnHighXXX: i don’t usually have fans tip that much _

_ LincolnHighXXX: u know i offer private shows right? _

**bballSlayer: And how much do I have to tip for one of those? I mean, I don’t know if I can afford it right now, but just so I know what I’m saving up for.**

 

I’m facepalming over my response so hard I almost hurt myself. As in, I literally slapped myself in the forehead over it. Why the fuck did I say that? What am I thinking? Fuck fuck fuck.

 

_ LincolnHighXXX: yeah, right, i really brought it up to tell u to tip more _

_ LincolnHighXXX: thats not what i meant. i meant that i usually charge for them but i want u to have a private show. for free. _

**bballSlayer: Wait, why?**

_ LincolnHighXXX: i dunno. cause i want u to. _

I’m blushing. Seriously, it’s taking over my whole fucking face. I’m blushing so hard I can’t handle it.

**bballSlayer: Okay. Sounds fun. What’s a private show like?**

_ LincolnHighXXX: ull see. i’m kind of afraid if i tell u ull disappear again _

_ LincolnHighXXX: but i guess we just have to take that chance dont we? do u have a cam? i want to see u during. _

 

Oh. My. God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, no chapter update tomorrow due to my doctor's appointment. I will be back with the next installment on SATURDAY, when we will return to a normal posting schedule.


	19. Technical Difficulties

I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be clothed or naked for this private show. It’s weird knowing he’ll be able to see me, too. Part of me is contemplating telling him at the last second that my camera doesn’t work suddenly, that he can’t see me, because I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t even know how private shows work.

But right now my Skype is ringing and I don’t have any more time to think about this. I just have to  _ do  _ this and pray I made the right choice to keep my clothes on. As he comes into focus on the screen, he’s clothed, too. But right now I’m nervous because I’m realizing he’s about to hear my voice for the first time. I’ve heard his so much now that it’s normal to me to see and hear him but he hasn’t seen or heard me at all… ever.

“You going to turn your cam on?”

 

**bballSlayer: Yeah, give me a second. Technical difficulties.**

 

I’m stalling. I’m taking deep breaths. And now I’m clicking to turn my camera and mic on.

“Hey, there you are! Now I can see you.”

“Hey,” I respond. I don’t know what else to say. I don’t want to start with nervous word-vomit. For some reason this feels like a weird sort of online date and it’s not. I know that. It’s a private show he generously offered because I spent like, half of my life savings on his stupid camshow. But it  _ feels  _ that way for half a second and I can’t shake that. I think it's because I looked it up and I know he usually charges $12 per minute of private shows that it feels like this is a huuuuuge gift or something from him. But who knows? Maybe it'll just be a minute long.

“You’re just as handsome as I thought you were,” LincolnHigh is saying, and I’m not quite sure how to take that. As handsome as he thought I was? Maybe he meant to say as he expected me to be? I don’t really know. Either way, I’m blushing and I want to slap myself for blushing so hard, but he’d be able to see that.

“Thanks. You’re, uh… you’re as handsome as… um… as always, I guess?” Way to go, Rhett. Great job there. For fuck’s sake, can’t I just be normal for once and not fucking stumble on my words like a dumbass?

“Thanks,” he said. “So uh, this is… this is kind of new for me.”

“What do you mean?” New for him? He has to do private shows all the time, though?

“I mean usually when I do a private show, I’m already stripped. And they don’t usually have their cam on, too, unless they pay extra for me to see them. And they’re usually a lot older than you. Like a  _ lot  _ older,” LincolnHigh answered. “But uh… I don’t know. I thought we could just talk or somethin’ for a little bit. We don’t  _ have  _ to dive right in or anything. Unless you’d rather…” he said, toying with the hem of his shirt.

“No, I… talking is good. A lot older, huh? Like… they could be your dad kind of old?”

“I mean they could be my grandfather kind of old. I don’t know what it is about old dudes and twinks, but uh, they seem to have an affinity for us.”

“Twinks?” What the fuck is a twink?

“You know, slender guys, not a lot of body hair, young…” he’s saying. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“You’re not gay, are you?” he asks. “I mean, like… I’m not saying you’re not, uh… I mean, like… you’re not really into the uh… the gay community?”

“Oh, uh. I’m… Uh…” I don’t know how to answer that. I don’t even know what I am. I don’t know why I was actually a little offended by him saying I’m not gay, but I was. I mean, I’m into him, so for him to imply that I’m not, well… someone who would be into him is… fuck, I don’t even know right now. “I guess I’m still kind of new to everything,” I finally settle on.

“That’s okay,” he reassures me. “So, uh… was the video okay for you?”

“It was… it was really good,” I confess. “Really good.” Way to play it cool, Rhett.

“Good. It was really hot making it for you. I got a little bit carried away. They’re usually shorter than that, but thinking of you made it easy for me to get off.”

He says that like he knows me. I chuckle at the thought. In another world, maybe.

“Yeah, Watching was… I mean, it’s eye-opening. Can I ask a really stupid question?” Fuck, why did I say that? I wish I could eat the words as soon as they come out.

“Of course. What’s up?”

“How do you… how does it not, um… how does it not hurt when you, uh… use your fingers?” Dumb. _Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb._ What the fuck, Rhett?

“Lots of lube. I mean, in the video I’d already kind of lubed up because I thought I might do that, and in the video there was a lot of spit on my fingers, so that helped. But yeah, just… a lot of lube helps. And going slowly. And practice. I’ve done it a lot, so it doesn’t take quite as long to open me up. But your ass doesn’t like, self-lubricate, y’know? You have to really help it out.”

“Oh, uh. Thanks,” I say. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You must be a top,” he chuckles. “You’ll get it, though.”

“Yeah, I’ll… uh… I’ll try lube, then,” I answer again.

“What’s your major?” he asks, and I’m a little alarmed by the fact that he can so casually go from my stupid question to something so normal.

“Engineering,” I answer.

“No fuckin’ way,” he says. “I was an engineering major, too, before I left.”

“Wow, it’s crazy we didn’t have any classes together or anything, like one of the bigger lectures or something,” I said. I don’t quite understand the weird smirk he gets on his face when I say it, but before I can ask what that look is for, he chuckles.

“Yeah, that’d be weird. So do you want to see what a  _ normal  _ private show is like?” And now he’s tugging off his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Tuesday. I've gotten a few comments about stepping this up to more frequent posting (like every other day instead of 3 days a week), so I'm going to toy around with seeing how much I can get written and... I don't know. Maybe. Until then, Tuesday, bitches. <3


	20. Show Me Yours

I don’t want this to end. Seriously, I really don’t want it to end. I’m worried that the second I come, he’s going to turn off the camera feed and be done. Or the second he does. Or something. So I’m watching him take his clothes off and I’ve slid my sweatpants down, and I’m hard,  _ god I’m so hard _ , but the last thing I want to do is touch myself. I mean, I have to have my hand on myself or it’s going to look like I’m not into this, but I’m afraid if I touch too much it’s going to be over too soon.

“What do you like, Rhett?” he asks. What do I like? I don’t fucking know what I like. Right now I like the way he’s thrusting his hips a little bit toward the screen and the way he’s standing there. I like it when he bends down to get his face near the camera and licks his lips.

“Uh… I like…” I start to stammer. “I like what you’re doing,” I admit. He’s not really even  _ doing  _ anything so now I feel dumb for saying it. He’s just  _ being  _ and I hate that I basically just told him “hey, man, I like to look at you.” But he smiles a little bit, glances down, then sits in front of the screen, cross-legged on his bed. His hand is kind of toying with himself, kinda not, and he leans forward to adjust the camera so I can see his face better.

“You know what I’d like?” he asks. “I’d like for you to get comfortable. Relax. I only bite if you tell me you want me to.”

I feel like him telling me he wants me to get comfortable is basically asking me to remove the differences between us, the fact that I have clothes on and he doesn’t, so I peel my shirt off and slide my pants down until they’re out of view around my ankles. “Like that?” I ask.

“Yeah, kind of. Are you on a laptop? Are you comfortable there or more comfortable in your bed?” He asks. Truth be told, I’d probably be more comfortable in my bed, but close to the door, I can kind of block it if anyone starts to come in while I’m talking to him, so I stay put.

“I’m, uh… I’m good here, I think.” I try to sound self-assured but I’m pretty sure I don’t.

“You’re makin’ me nervous by not relaxing. Seriously, this is kinda weird for me too. I told you I don’t usually do this with guys I… guys my age, you know? Usually it’s old dudes wanting to watch. So just… breathe. And I’m going to try to, too, okay?”

“Okay,” I take a deep breath.

“You have a really nice cock,” he says. “It’s thick.”

“S’not very long,” I confess. Not compared.

“Well, it doesn’t really have to be,” he shrugs. “I really like that it’s thick.”

“Thanks,” I mutter. I’m not really sure how to reply, so I just say “I like that yours is long.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I really want to get my mouth on yours. Thinking about going down on you’s got me really hard. I mean, fuck. That’s… you’re really hot. I would love to lick every inch of your cock,” LincolnHigh smiles and licks his lips and I’m dying. I can feel the heat rushing to my face and even though I know this is just part of the show, that it’s not real, I can feel my heart beating fast and my palms sweating and my mouth going dry like I’m in love or something, but obviously I’m not because this  _ isn’t real. _

And even though I want to make it last, I’m stroking myself and looking at him. “God, yeah, that… that would be really nice,” I breathe. I want it. I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.

“You think you’d ever let me fuck you?” he asks. “I bet I could get you nice and ready, take it real slowly. I’ll use lots of lube so it won’t hurt…” he’s promising, and I can see his eyes fluttering and his hand stroking faster. “Usually I don’t, uh, I don’t make requests on cam because it’s about what you want…”

“Yeah? What do you want?” I’m asking him and I feel like my voice is sultry and smooth but maybe it’s not. Fuck, I’m probably sounding so dumb right now.

“Can I see your ass?” he asks. I have a flash of panic. What if it’s not clean enough or nice enough or pretty enough or what if he’s seen better ones and mine is awful? Do I need to shave it? Do people  _ shave  _ their fucking asses? I mean I know they shave their balls but maybe I just have a hairy ass and I’ve never thought about it until now. But I realize I just took a shower literally ten minutes before this call so I wouldn’t be absolutely disgusting, so I do what he asks. I stand up, I turn around, and at first I just let him see my butt.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters. “God, yeah, Rhett, fuck… I really want to fuck you, baby,” he says. “Can you, uh… will you spread it for me?”

So I do. I do what he asks.

“Oh my god,” he groans, and at first I’m worried it’s horrible so I turn back around and sit down pretty quickly, but no, he’s having a little trouble catching his breath and his eyes are kind of glazed over and I think… I think he likes what he’s seeing.

“Was that… was that alright?” I ask. I’m feeling self-conscious, to be honest.

“It was amazing. God, I want to bury my face right in there. Fucking hell…”

“What?”

“I want you, Rhett,” he practically pleads and my hand can’t help but grip myself tighter and I know I won’t last much longer if he keeps talking like that. “You are so sexy and so… fuck,” he says, changing his hand positioning like he’s trying to make it last longer, and without thinking about it I do the same thing.

“I… I want you, too,” I confess. “I mean really.”

“Say my name,” he commands. I falter for a second. His profile says Link on his page but I only know him as LincolnHigh and I don’t know if I want him to know that I stalked him on Twitter anyway.

“L--uh… L”

“Link, call me Link, please, fuck, Rhett, I’m really close,” he whimpers.

“Link,” I say. “Fuck, Link… you’re… I’m gonna…” I can’t finish what I’m saying because I’m spilling all over my hand and my chest and I’m really glad I took my shirt off, but he’s coming hard with a groan that I’ve never heard from him before.

“Rhett, oh my god…” he says after. “That was so good.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “It’s good.”

“Right now you’ve got me wishing I never moved away,” he says. “Or, uh. I dunno, hey, I… I have to go. Can we do this again sometime? I won’t charge you or anything, ‘cause, uh. It was good for me, too.”

“Yeah, okay, we’ll do it again, then,” I said. “See ya.” I don’t know what else to say to him right now, but I watch as he looks at his hand and licks the come off of it before turning off the camera. I’m already getting hard again thinking about how I wouldn’t mind tasting it.

I am  _ so  _ gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Testing, testing, 1-2-3, we're going to try something new. Swapping this fic to EVERY OTHER DAY. A lot of you have requested it, and this is literally just a test because I'm not 100% sure I can keep up. But we're going to give it a solid go, okay? It changes nothing for this week because this time we are still Thursday and Saturday, but then after that, look for an update next Monday, along with a chapter of my newest fic, Getting Off, which starts that day. Annnnyway. Feel free to yell at me!


	21. Special Guest

I’m pretty eager seeing a twitter notification pop up that Link is tweeting saying he’s got a stream starting. Because yeah, I turned on notifications after we talked. I actually think we  _ might  _ have a real connection. Even if I know mostly the stuff in the video is just script or whatever, I’m pretty sure the way he talked to me when we chatted was genuine. And besides, he said he wanted to do it again. One free private session is pity for me spending too much. Two is a choice. Two means he’s into it. I think, at least.

As soon as I click on the stream, he’s right there, totally dressed like he always starts his shows, and oh my  _ god,  _ he looks so good. He’s just… I don’t know what it is about him. Now that I’m willing to admit that yeah, I’m into him, it’s hard not to stare at the piercing blue eyes, the long, slender arms, the muscles that reveal themselves every time he moves. Fuck. I’m hard and he hasn’t even stripped. Maybe because I know what’s coming.

Except I don’t. I really, really didn’t know what was coming because before I can untangle my dick from my pants there’s a knock on the door. Not my door. Link’s door. And Link’s standing up, getting off the camera, and then there’s another guy there. Why is there another guy there?

I’m assuming he’ll leave any second but he sits down on the couch and Link introduces him as one of his buddies. Okay, a friend. I can understand that. I’ve got friends. I don’t understand why they’re kissing and Link’s pulling on his shirt and I can see this other dude lick Link’s lip before kissing him again. And then Link’s straddling him for a second and climbing off of him and looking at him and saying “come on, save something for the tips,” to his friend and I am red in the face.

It’s hitting me before I can really realize what’s happening to me. I’m fucking jealous. I’m like… furious and frustrated and I feel like I’m going to throw up. I’m not mad at Link, I’m jealous, and I’m mad at this jackass who has his paws all over Link the way I want my hands on him, my tongue and lips and everything else and fuck, why the fuck am I so jealous?

Link is a fucking  _ porn star.  _ He said it himself that private shows are something he does, something he does regularly, and I can’t be jealous of that. He’s always on cam. This is his fucking job. I knew this would happen, I knew it could happen, and I somehow let myself fucking believe this was fucking different and it’s not. It’s just who he is and how he is and I’m not fucking special to him.

Tips are rolling in but I’m not tipping. People want to see them spank each other, want to see them make out, want to have them take their shirts off and I can’t tear my eyes away. I can’t stop looking.

I don’t really feel the tears in my eyes until the screen’s a little blurry and I can’t figure out why and then it hits me. I’m so jealous that I want to cry. People are tipping for this shit and commenting on how cute they are together and the thing is, they’re fuckin’ right. These two look  _ adorable  _ together. But I’m pissed because I can’t help but want it to be me. And now tips are rolling in and they’re already naked and I’m not sure how long I’ve been watching. I really, really have no idea because usually it takes Link a while but this feels like it’s both flying by and crawling. This guy’s pawing at him and laughing, stroking his cock, and I’m gripping my own  _ hard  _ because I’m hard watching and I don’t want to be.

I’m seeing them stroke each other and Link is dipping his head, wrapping his lips around his “buddy” who is probably like, his boyfriend, how the fuck would I know he’s not? They’re probably together and I’m just fucking  _ stupid  _ to think he’d ever be into someone like me.

“Wow, y’all are a little tip happy tonight, already have us to a comeshow and we’ve barely been streaming for three hours! I think that’s record time!”  _ Three hours?  _ I’ve been staring at this for three fucking hours? Are you fucking kidding me?

This time, his friend is talking. “Alright, let’s do it this way. We’ll give it 5 minutes. For every 5-token tip we get, it’s a vote for Lincoln here to top. For every 10-token tip, it’s a vote for Lincoln to bottom… who wants to see me stretch this sexy little hole here? Lincoln, sexy, show them your ass.” Link does what he asks, bending over and spreading his cheeks apart, showing us all how it is. His friend is leaning over him, jiggling his butt and teasing at his hole. “Wow, that’s really fucking tight, isn’t it? Damn, that’s going to be fun to tear up. Look at that,” he says, sliding a finger into Link. 10-token tips are going up like  _ crazy _ . Everybody wants to see Link take his cock and I’m not looking forward to it.

I think mine is the only 5-token tip to go up. And then mine are the only seven 5-token tips to go up. And then I have to stop because it’s clear no one else is voting for Link to top this guy and I’m looking absolutely fucking ridiculous. Part of me wants to turn off this stupid fucking show and the other part of me can’t help but watch as Link climbs in his lap and I’m wishing it was me, I’m imagining it’s me.

I’m watching this guy slide into Link and I’m picturing my own cock in him, his body stretching to accommodate me, and I think that I have to be thicker than this guy, I have to be  _ better  _ because if I don’t think about that I feel even worse. And I’m jacking off but I can feel the tears on my face and I’m so mad because this is stupid, it’s all so fucking stupid. I’m not even supposed to like him or like guys or want to watch him riding this guy like he means it, kissing this guy like it’s real, and I don’t know why I’m so fucking invested but at the same time I do.

I just want to throw my computer across the fucking room. I can see the come dripping out of Link as he climbs off of him and I feel angry and sick and tired and I’m getting soft anyway. I’m not really doing that great with this. It’s not a turn-on to watch the guy I like get impaled by somebody else. And then he turns and he’s leaning back against the guy right there behind him and that guy is jacking him off and kissing his neck and I’m done. I’m so done. Let them have each other. I don’t give a fuck anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry?
> 
>  
> 
> See you Saturday.


	22. Fool Me Once

I’m not blaming him for doing what he has to do for work. I’m afraid that that’s how I’m coming off, even in my own head, that I’m upset he’s doing his job. I get it. It’s his job to fuck people. That’s what his income is coming from.

I’m not upset about that.

What I am upset about is that I watched. I watched them kiss and touch and even fuck and I’m struggling with that. And had it been any other camshow, the thing is, I probably would have watched and jacked off. But it was  _ Link _ . My Link, the Link that I’m into, the Link I was just thinking I could have met or gotten to know… and he’s banging other dudes. And that’s  _ fine.  _ It’s fine. It’s just… I don’t want to see it. Is that really such a crime?

And yeah, I admit it. I’m jealous as hell. And I’m also feeling stupid because he’s probably been doing this all along but I’ve just missed it because I keep avoiding him every time I get nervous. And then there’s this part of me that’s like “well maybe if I’d been there, he wouldn’t…” but that’s fucking stupid. Okay? I know it’s fucking stupid. Because again, it’s his job, and I can’t get mad at him for that.

But I also never have to talk to him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, this week we switch to LC every other day! Look for the next post Monday, then find it Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday.


	23. U ok?

**From: LincolnHighXXX@mymailsbox.com  
** **To: bballSlayer187@mymailsbox.com  
** **Subject: You okay?**

 

**I haven’t seen you around in a couple of weeks. I’m not trying to be weird or stalkery, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Usually I don’t send emails to people when they’re not watching my show because people get busy or move on, but you were starting to feel like kind of a regular and I miss seeing your username.**

**Also I thought maybe we were going to chat again soon? Just us?**

**Hope you’re okay.**

 

**Xxx,**

**Link**

  
  


 

 

**From: bballSlayer187@mymailsbox.com  
** **To: LincolnHighXXX@mymailsbox.com  
** **Subject: Re: You okay?**

 

**I’m fine. It’s a long story. You don’t have to cam with me privately for free or whatever. I know you’re busy and probably have a lot of other private shows to do, so you can focus on those.**

 

**-R**

  
  


 

 

**From: LincolnHighXXX@mymailsbox.com  
** **To: bballSlayer187@mymailsbox.com  
** **Subject: Re: Re: You okay?**

 

**It sounds like you’re not okay. Did I do something?**

 

**Xxx,**

**Link**

 

 

 

**From: bballSlayer187@mymailsbox.com  
** **To: LincolnHighXXX@mymailsbox.com  
** **Subject: Re: Re: Re: You okay?**

 

**You’re just doing your job.**

**It’s cool. I’m out of tip money and time to watch lately. Good luck with everything**

 

**-R**


	24. Please?

**To: bballSlayer187@mymailsbox.com  
** **From: LincolnHighXXX@mymailsbox.com  
** **Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: You okay?**

**Don’t tip anymore. I’m serious. And if you don’t have time for the show, that’s okay. But can you make time to chat with me? Even just a little bit? I’m serious about not charging you. I’m genuinely feeling like we click really well and I want to get to know you better. I wouldn’t be emailing you if I didn’t.**

**Xxx,  
Link**

 

I hate this stupid email and the fact that he’s acting like we click. I mean, of course we do. I wouldn’t be this upset if we didn’t. But that’s complete nonsense and bullshit and everything else, that he’s this worried about me. And not tipping anymore? He’s got to be kidding me. That’s how he makes his income. It’s so stupid. Of course if I watch, I’m going to tip. But that’s the thing, I can’t bring myself to even lurk now. If I look at him, all I can do is picture him getting nailed by someone else, and it makes me a little bit sick.

He can’t possibly actually care about this. It’s just a chance to save face and save a customer and everything else. But sure. We’ll go with it.

 

**To: LincolnHighXXX@mymailsbox.com  
** **From: bballSlayer187@mymailsbox.com  
** **Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: You okay?**

**Okay. We can chat. Let me know when.**

**-R**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, fuck.
> 
> See you Friday.


	25. It Pays The Bills

My skype rang and part of me wanted to ignore it, even though I said I’d be here and I’d answer. I even cancelled plans. And he postponed his show for the night saying he “didn’t feel well” so it would be pretty shitty of me not to answer.

I’m kind of pissed off still, though, that he’d keep pushing when I just want to be done with all of it. I admitted it, I liked him, I was attracted to him and all of that. And yeah, I’m gay, okay? I looked at other guys’ stupid camshows and they’re way better than trying to make other shit work, you know? So yeah, great, thanks a lot, Link. You helped me sort out my sexuality. Not that I needed it sorted because I was so much  _ happier  _ before all of this bullshit.

But whatever, fine. I answer the call and right now I’m not turning my cam on. He’s got his on, but I’m not in the mood.

“Rhett?” he asks, and I give a small wave before I remember I didn’t turn it on. “Hey, you gonna turn your cam on? It’s not working, I can’t see you!” He says.  _ Wow, fucking genius. Of course you can’t. _

“Yeah, hold on.” I clear my throat and I click the button.

“Hey! There you are. God, it startles me a little bit how handsome you are when I see you, y’know? Like I kind of am surprised every time by it.”

“Yeah, thanks. Can we just, uh… what did you need, I guess?” I cut him off because I don’t have time for the flattery. It’s not making me feel any better.

“I guess I just needed to know you were alright? I’ve been worried, honestly.”

“Yeah,” I snort. Sure he has. Worried about his wallet maybe.

“Rhett, seriously. Is everything okay? Did… did us talking on here last time upset you? Did I do something?” He genuinely seems like he wants to know, and… it’s stupid that I want him to know.

“You didn’t do anything. I’m just… I don’t know. I don’t think I can do this anymore. I mean I know  _ this”  _ I wave my arm between me and the computer, like I’m pointing to him “isn’t like… you know? I just… can’t do the whole… watching your show thing anymore. It’s just… fuck, I don’t know, Link, what do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me why, I guess. I felt like we had this cool connection and chemistry and then you’re… gone, you know?” Link looks down and I feel like shit. Wow, like… I’m just a guy on a stupid screen that only he can see, and he’s a freakin’ porn star or some shit like that, and he’s upset that  _ I’m  _ not giving him the time of day?

“It’s hard to explain,” I settle on. “It’s… it’s weird because yeah, we’ve got a connection, but also you… you do… what you do. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t! I mean, you should. I just… I don’t want to get as into it as I’ve been, you know? Like I had a few days there where, god, this sounds kind of stalkerish and I’m not like that, okay?”

“Okay,”

“I had a few days in there where it was impossible not to think about you, or I’d watch that video you sent, or… or I’d wonder if you were camming and it just felt weird and unhealthy and fucked up that I’m watching you do what you do as a performance and getting something personal from it. I get it, Link, like… you’ve got this kind of thing you do and that’s great for you. But this isn’t for me. What you do, it’s… it’s not something I need to be seeing anymore.”

Link’s closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. For a long time he doesn’t say anything. “So basically because of my job, you don’t want to get to know me more?”

“It’s not… it’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like, Rhett? Is it because I’m naked more often than I’m not? Is it because  _ other  _ people see me naked? Because I have bills to pay and I know it’s stupid but this  _ pays them _ ,” he’s insisting.

“God, Link, what the fuck?” I can feel my blood boiling. “Did I ever say you shouldn’t do your freaking job? No, of course I didn’t. Do whatever you want to do. But I don’t see why you’re so, like… annoyed about this. You can turn on that camera and have what, 400, 500 guys dying to sleep with you in a given moment. I’m one dude, Link. I just don’t see what the big deal is that I’m not watching now.”

“Because you know you felt it, too. And it’s weird to me that you can just… stop. Feeling it, I mean.”

That’s the thing, though. I didn’t stop feeling it. I think I just felt it too much. More than he did, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.
> 
> See you Sunday.


	26. Marketable Skills

“I gotta go,” I told him. I wasn’t hashing this out on camera, not now, not like this. We didn’t even  _ know  _ each other. Me tipping his camshow a few times and one conversation does not exactly a friendship make.

“Rhett, please,” he said, and I froze in my tracks.

“What?”

“You know it’s just a job, right?” He’s squeezing his eyes shut and he genuinely looks pained. “It’s a job. I’m not… I don’t… fuck,” he mumbles. “It’s complicated and I don’t have a choice and I don’t know how to explain it to you, but that’s how it is.”

“Yeah, I got it. You have to do your job. I mean, everybody has to do something. I tutor people in math, you get fucked on a camera with hundreds of people watching. I got it.” I know he could see my eye roll.

“Okay. Fine. Point taken. Maybe it’ll be different if you, I don’t know… actually fucking come out to someone. But when you lose everything and you’re like ‘I have no marketable skills outside of liking dick,’ then you do what you have to. And I’m doing what I have to. I guess I’ll talk to you later,” Link said, and before I could say anything else, he ended the call.

_ Fuck.  _


	27. Silent Treatment

**To: LincolnHighXXX@mymailsbox.com  
** **From: bballSlayer187@mymailsbox.com  
** **Subject: I’m sorry**

 

**I guess it’s my turn to be worried because you haven’t done a show in two days and I don’t know what’s going on with you. Do you want to talk?**

**-R**

 

**To: LincolnHighXXX@mymailsbox.com  
** **From: bballSlayer187@mymailsbox.com  
** **Subject: I’m getting worried**

 

**You said you were sick on twitter the day we talked. Are you still sick? Do you want me to postmates you some soup? Maybe I can get it to an address near you or something and you can go get it so you don’t have to give me your address? Just tell me what kind you want and where to send it.**

**-R**

 

**To: LincolnHighXXX@mymailsbox.com  
** **From: bballSlayer187@mymailsbox.com  
** **Subject: I’m sorry. Again.**

 

**Sorry if my offer to postmates soup yesterday was weird. I wasn’t trying to make things weird. I’m just trying to help.**

**-R**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Thursday


	28. Farewell

_ Twitter Notifications _ _  
_ _ LincolnHighXXX: Farewell show in 5 minutes. You don’t want to miss this one. _

__

He is streaming. Without ever emailing me back, he’s streaming. And while ordinarily I’d take that as a clear message to stay away, the fact that he says this is his farewell show has me worried. Is he quitting streaming? Something else entirely? It doesn’t matter. I’m getting on.

He looks normal. I mean, his usual self, doing what he needs to do, sitting there in his clothes and smoking pot. I can see boxes in the corner of the screen, and it looks like maybe he’s moving out? Moving someone in?

The other viewers are asking questions so I don’t have to.

Farewell show? Where are you going? Are you quitting? Are you moving? What are the boxes? Where have you been? Is everything okay? No more camming? What happened?

“Guys, chill. I just… you know, I got some real wake-up calls that this isn’t an industry I should be in or whatever. So you know. I just need some space from it.”

He is breathing slowly and looking at the camera. “I mean, not really sure how I’m going to pay my bills for a while but I’ll figure it out? It’s fine, y’all.”

That comment nudges some tips his way. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that was the intent but I feel like he’s above that. He even told me to stop tipping when I said I didn’t have the money.

 

**_bballSlayer has tipped 100 tokens.  
_ ** **_bballSlayer has tipped for PM._ **

_ LincolnHighXXX: you wanted a PM? _

**bballSlayer: Just wanted to see if you’re okay. You didn’t respond to my emails.  
** **bballSlayer: I know they were creepy. I’m sorry.**

_ LincolnHighXXX: they weren’t creepy. They were actually nice. Anyway you got your wish. I’m not doing my job anymore. _

**bballSlayer: I didn’t say you should quit. I said that I had to quit watching.**

_ LincolnHighXXX: You didn’t. You’re here. _

**bballSlayer: If it’s your last show, and my last chance to talk to you, yeah, I’m going to be here.**

__ LincolnHighXXX: it has to be my last show.  
__ LincolnHighXXX: there’s a guy i really wanted to get to know but he doesn’t like my job  
_ LincolnHighXXX: i thought if i quit maybe he’d talk to me  
_ __ LincolnHighXXX: what do u think? Think he will talk to me?

**bballSlayer: I think if he’s not a shitty person, he’ll feel bad for making you think you have to quit and talk to you anyway.  
** **bballSlayer: just my take, though.  
** **bballSlayer: what are you doing after your show?**

_ LincolnHighXXX: I guess that depends on if you’re free after or not. _


	29. Quitter

“If you like doing it, then quitting’s kinda dumb,” I offer. I don’t want him to quit if he likes it. “It’s just… I don’t know. I guess I just kind of feel like I have no reason to stop you. I have no argument in this.”

“You seemed to have one last time,” Link’s saying, and yeah, he’s right.

“Okay, and I didn’t have all the facts, and anyway, I guess I don’t really feel like I can be all ‘this is a dealbreaker’ when there’s no sort of easy guide here, you know? Not that… not that we’re… you know… I don’t mean  _ dealbreaker,”  _ I stammer. How do I even begin to explain that yeah, I like him, but I obviously know that isn’t mutual in a way that I should get to decide what he does for a living. “Just don’t… don’t quit or do something dumb, okay?”

“I  _ did  _ quit. I mean, most camguys kind of do it on their own, y’know? But I had to join up with this group to have a place to live. I’ve got to be out tomorrow.” He pans to the boxes behind him, turning his entire camera that way.

“Wait, you’re moving  _ tomorrow _ ?” Is he serious? He’s quit and he’s moving?

“Yeah, I mean… I can keep my cam name if I pay them a fee, and I have a couch to crash on with a buddy of mine, so if I can find a space to cam then I’m all set and can make enough money for rent maybe, find a place, but… but I’m not just doing this shit because I want to, okay?”

“Yeah, and it was dumb of me to think that, and I’m sorry, but seriously, are you sure you’re okay?” Now I’m terrified. He’s basically homeless and it’s all because I’m a complete dumbass and said shit about his job and made him quit. “Is there any way you can get back with the people you were with?”

“With their waiting list? Nah. My spot was full before I ever said a word about wanting to leave. I’ve been over it for a while, though, over working for them at least.” It was weird hearing him talk about it. I guess I never really considered that he had anyone making him do specific things. “You know the guys on my show sometimes? They’re from this group. We basically all room together, film together, and we work in shows on schedule, with part of our stuff going to them. You know, to cover the costs of everything.”

“So like, a dorm or something?”

“Uh, sure. We’re kinda like a frat that fucks each other and then when someone decides they want out, we cut them off and never speak to them again and block them on all social media,” he said. He was throwing shade and it was obvious. “Anyway, uh, I’m just going to see if I can sell a few things to try to keep my usernames and all of that, buy my way out of the contract. Otherwise I guess I’ll go work at McDonalds or something?”

“How much do you need?” I don’t know why I’m demanding to know. I mean, what if I imply I’m going to pay it and then I can’t and he’s disappointed? Or what if he’s mad that I’m asking after I said was broke?

“I’m only like 30 bucks away from being able to get it. I think if I sell a few more videos or something, I can probably get there,” he said.

“So you’re not like… you’re not dating the guys in your shows? Or like… into them?” I don’t know why I’m asking. I mean, I do know, but I don’t know.

“God no. We have contracts, Rhett. We show up in each other’s shows for cross-promotion. Helps me if I can be all ‘I fucked Tony in this stream’ because then all of the Tony fans come over and check it out, and then maybe they’ll become my fans? It’s literally work. I don’t know how else to explain it. Did you actually think I could get emotionally invested in every dude that sticks his dick in me?”

“No,” I’m saying, and I guess I don’t think that, but at the same time, I guess since I’ve never really experienced sex…. I can’t really speak for him when I say that there has to be some emotion there. But I was raised to think that sex was this big emotional thing and it’s hard for me to break out of that, you know? I’m sitting here talking to a guy I’m basically obsessed with, a guy who  _ knows  _ I want to have sex with him, and I’ve got that damn True Love Waits necklace around my stupid neck. “I’m… I get it, okay? I’m sorry I said anything. Anyway, do I have to buy your video with a tip or can I just send you the money?”

“You’re not buying a video, Rhett,” he’s insisting.

“I am, though. It’s my freakin’ fault you’re quitting and might not get to keep your name, and I’m going to buy it.” I feel like shit for all the problems I’ve caused.

“I told you. I was going to quit anyway. I just… did it a little earlier than planned.”

“Let me buy a video. Don’t be stupid,” I say, and he rolls his eyes. He can’t fight me though because oh my  _ god  _ the door opens behind me and I want to die. Thank god we’re both still clothed, or I’d be in so much shit right now.


	30. Familiar Face

“You comin’ to dinner?” Gregg’s peeking his head in and I’m mortified. If he has ever somehow seen this guy, he’ll know how I met him. He’ll know I’m really fuckin’ gay. He’ll know that I live with him… and I’m gay. And all of that seems like it could be a big problem for me. I’m trying to block the door and keep him out but I can’t, and now he’s in the room and askin’ me if I want to go to dinner and I’m hungry but I’m also in the middle of something here.

“Give me ten minutes. Or, fuck. Uh. Go ahead and I’ll meet you there,” I say, standing in front of the computer a little bit in hopes of hiding it. I’m probably just drawing more attention to it.

“What are you actin’ so fishy about? Watching porn or somethin’? Dude. You’re so jumpy today!”

“I’m not!” I yelp, and my voice is going up too high to be reasonable, which has him peeking his head around me toward the computer and thank  _ god  _ I’m not actually watching porn because that would be humiliating.

“Chuck? What the fuck is up, man! How have you been?”

What the fuck? I have no idea what’s happening except for Link is responding to Gregg like they know each other and I’m so confused right now. I glance at Gregg and then back at the screen and I’m pretty sure the fact that I’m really confused is obvious right now because Gregg is telling me he didn’t know we were friends.

“Yeah, we’re tight,” Link says, smiling. “Raddison still fuckin’ you up?” He asks, and it’s more than clear now. They had class together.  _ We  _ fucking had class together. We all did. I don’t know how I didn’t realize it sooner, how I had no fucking clue that we were in the same class and we dealt with the same professor and the same shit and then it hits me by the smirk on Link’s face.

He knew. He fucking knew the entire time.


	31. Call Me

“I didn’t know you and Chuck were even friends,” Gregg’s saying around a mouthful of pie. “Like, I didn’t know you even really knew each other.”

“Yeah, we, uh… we’re friends.” I’m feeling really weirded out about how to respond, and it hits me now that Link’s a stage name or a screen name, not his real name, and even though that’s who he is to me, and even what he told me to call him, apparently he’s got this whole different name and different life. A life he had  _ here  _ and that makes it even weirder that I didn’t know this about him.

I have to ask him. I have to know more about him and more about if he knew me and everything else.

 

**bballSlayer: Hey, I know I don’t usually DM you here but you got time to talk later?**

_ lincolnhighXXX: yeah, sure. I’m moving so I don’t know if I’ll be able to skype you or whatever but maybe ic ould call you? _

**bballSlayer: Sure, that works. So… chuck, huh?**

_ lincolnhighXXX: my name was charles, so a lot of people there called me chuck. I hear the name link so much now that it was weird hearing gregg say that. lol _

**bballSlayer: yeah it was weird for me… haha. Anyway, just let me know when? I can get you my phone number if you want**

_ lincolnhighXXX: yeah send it. I’ll call you when i get this stuff moved _

 

“You got your head all buried in that phone, man. All good? Find some honey to talk to?”

Gregg’s pushing and I can’t tell him. I can’t explain that yeah, there’s someone I’m into, but also it’s a guy, and also it’s a guy  _ he knows  _ who also happens to be a porn star on top of the whole thing. Any one of those things on their own would be too much but this is well beyond too much.

So I just shake my head and put my phone away and yeah, I can feel it vibrate with a notification that I can’t look at yet. Waiting is killing me. Waiting to see what he says is eating at me. But who knows? Maybe it wasn’t even him. Maybe it was somebody else texting me or whatever.

I’m not exactly expecting him to call me, you know? I mean it’s been like two hours since I texted him and he’s moving and busy so it’s not really like he doesn’t have a lot on his plate. But the thing is, I’m really itching to talk to him. I kinda want to know if he knows me, too. And maybe he does. Maybe he doesn’t. Fuck if I know. Maybe it’s just some weird coincidence. But it feels like if we were in the same class, maybe he knows. I mean, he’s made some weird comments or something and I’m scratching my head. I texted him my number and said he could call me anytime he wants but I’m sick of waiting. It feels silly to call him. He gave me his number, too, but he’s busy and he’s working on moving and he’d totally call me if he wasn’t busy.

Fuck it.

It’s silly that I’m already memorizing bits of his number. Probably because I’ve read it so many times in the last two hours trying to decide. It’s one thing to chat on skype with him or whatever where I can see him, but talking on the phone is different. I walk outside, and since it’s late, there’s not a lot of people out here. It’s better than being in my room. This way, no one will hear the conversation.

“Hey,” he says, and he’s way too casual, like he isn’t freaking the fuck out over this. I mean, of course he isn’t, but… how is he not?

“Hey,” I answer back and I’m totally not as cool as he is. I’m pretty sure you can hear the shake in my voice and the way it kind of cracks when I’m nervous, and I’m not totally sure how to take him.

“So you figure it out yet?”

“Figure what out?”

“That I know you.”

There it is. All out there.

“Yeah, I kind of got that. When did you know?” Did he know when he saw my face? He couldn’t have known by the name alone, could he have?

“You told me your name but I figured I couldn’t be that lucky. I mean, there was a guy I thought was really fucking hot when I went to school in North Carolina named Rhett and he was a basketball player, and  _ you  _ were a basketball player named Rhett, and this part of me was like ‘no way, it would be crazy if it was the same guy.’ When I made you that custom video, I was imagining him, but obviously there was no way he’d know who I was because even though we had classes together, he stood out from being so tall and outspoken. I didn’t stand out at all. Anyway, I convinced myself you weren’t him. The world is small but not  _ that  _ small.”

“Oh, so… so you…?”

“Yeah. I thought you were the Rhett that played basketball at NC state, the Rhett who was super tall and an engineering major and outspoken and so, so cute. But I thought you couldn’t be him, so even though I was getting off a lot thinking about him, I knew you couldn’t be him.”

“But, I--”

“--yeah, exactly. You said you went to NC State and I honestly got really excited because it seemed even more likely you were him. I wasn’t sure if there were any other Rhett-named basketball players there, so I looked online. There’s not, for the record. It’s just you.”

“You knew before you ever saw me?” I can’t wrap my brain around what he’s saying. I honestly can’t. The fact that he had a crush on me and would even want it to be me is hard enough to deal with, but to know that he knew it was me before I knew… well, anything. I didn’t know anything. It’s mind-blowing that I didn’t know him. I see him and he stands out to me so much. I can’t imagine not being able to see him here. My head was so far up my own ass and so convinced I was somehow straight and so convinced I didn’t have any other choice that I somehow blocked him out altogether and honestly, what the fuck is that?

“Yeah, I did. And when I saw you every bit of those thoughts about how into you I was, and how smart your thoughts were in every class, and how I couldn’t help but stare at you and watch you in class all came back to me. I’d see you across campus and I’d be in  _ awe _ .”

Holy shit.

“Wait, you seriously liked me, though?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Present tense. Yeah. He does. I’m not sure what to even do with this information.


	32. Couch Surfing

I can’t believe he’s been so busy that we haven’t been able to talk much in a few days, but the fact that he’s streaming now feels so weird. I mean, I knew he was going to. Heck, I told him he should and that I’d watch, and it feels okay because he’s alone. There’s not someone else on his stream at all. It’s a lot easier to watch him play with himself. Hell, it’s way easier to get off to it if I just see him.

People are asking where he was and why he moved, but he’s keeping relatively quiet. On the bright side, he isn’t telling anyone “because this asshole guilted me into quitting,” which makes me feel a little better. It’s mostly about how he didn’t feel like it was the right fit, and he was happy that working with some friends gave him a chance to get on his feet out here, but now he was ready to be in his own place.

He didn’t tell them he wasn’t in his own place yet. He’s crashing on the same couch he’s filming on right now. I knew that. It was taking everything I had not to withdraw all of my savings to pay for a first and last month rent for him, honestly. Obviously I can’t do that. That’d be impossible. But I want to. It’s taking a lot for me not to.

He’s drawing out the show today and I saw his prices were a little higher when I logged on. Not a lot, not noticeable to a new viewer, just a tiny bit higher than they’d been in the past. I’m guessing it’s because he couldn’t set his own prices with the studio he was with, or because he needs the money, but no one is complaining and tips are coming in as usual. He’s being extra flirty on camera and I wonder if it’s because he knows I’m watching. I’m under strict orders from him that I’m not allowed to tip. He wants me to watch and wait, and not tip, but it’s so hard. I just want to push the button, to give him the tip I know he needs, but he’s told me to wait for a reason. So I’m not doing anything. We’re supposed to talk after the show, so hard to wait.

He’s thankfully still clothed when Gregg comes in, and I turn the screen so Gregg can’t see it, muting it as fast as I can. “What’s up?”

“The guys and I are going to the bar. You coming?”

“Nah, I’m, uh… I’m just going to study,” I answer. I want to stay here and talk to Link (I’m not used to Charles and he doesn’t even like that name anyway) and get off and all that. “And, you know, I don’t know, might crash early, man. I’m tired.”

“Nope. Not tonight. You’re coming with us. Ben said he found a girl to set you up with.”

Typically I wouldn’t fight. I’d just go and suck it up and pretend to go along with it. I never really realized why it felt so weird before. I always thought I was awkward around girls. And yeah, I probably am, but it’s not just that. I wondered why I didn’t feel as into them as everybody else there and why going out didn’t appeal to me when they’d set me up with someone. I wonder if I’d have gone if they’d set me up with a guy? I shake my head.

“Don’t care. Big test. I’m sure you can find another guy to pawn her off on.”

“Pawn her off on? God, Rhett, what are you, gay?”

Shit. My face is hot and beet red and I can literally feel myself blushing and freaking out a little bit. Oh my god. Ohhhh my god.

“Oh, fuck, okay, man. Um, well… have fun, then?” Gregg said, and I kind of nodded at him because what else should I even say to that? “We’ll probably be, uh… we’ll be back late. If… if you had some sort of other plans while we were gone?”

It kind of seems like he’s implying I bring over guys when he isn’t here and that’s why I want to stay home.

“Hey Gregg? I really  _ do  _ have a test Monday.” I say. What I don’t say is that I also have a hot guy to talk to.


	33. If/When

“Does, uh… did Gregg know you were gay?”

“I thought everyone there knew I was gay,” Link laughed. His show’s over and now it’s just us. “I guess you didn’t, though,” he admits. I still feel bad that I never noticed him really. “Nah, I’m pretty sure Gregg knows, why?”

“Well, uh… now he knows I am.” I told him. “He told me he set me up with a girl and I made some dumb excuse about studying because I didn’t know what else to tell him and he was like ‘what are you, gay?’ and… I’m pretty sure from there it was just obvious, honestly.”

“Did he respond okay?”

“He was on his way out the door, so I don’t think he really responded all that much,” I told him. “He kind of acted like I’ve been bringing guys back or something, or like he thought I was going to.”

“Oh yeah? You think I’m the kind of guy you’d bring back?” Link was flirting now, and I couldn’t help but blush and nod a little bit.

“You think you’d let me?” I wouldn’t know what to do with him if I did bring him back. This is so freakin’ new to me. But it dawns on me that he used to live here and that he used to go to school here and bringing him back is something I could’ve done if I wasn’t stupid before he left.

“Yeah. Hey, Rhett?”

“Yeah?”

He’s picking at his blanket and not looking at me. “If… I mean, uh, when I get a place here… I know it’s expensive and I know I’m still camming so you don’t, uh, you don’t have to say anything or decide right now or whatever, but… um.” Oh my  _ God,  _ Link, spit it out…. I just want you to say it. Just say it, please just say it. “You think you’d ever want to come get to know me? I mean, in real life?”

“You mean, since I missed my shot to know you here,” I clarify for him, and he gets a crooked grin that is so fuckin’ cute I can’t handle it. “I really want to come see you. If you want me to, I mean.”

“I want you to.”

“Okay. I’ll come over sometime. Uh, you know, once stuff gets sorted. Maybe, um… maybe fall break?”

“‘kay. Guess what?”

“What?” I don’t even know what to guess after that, so I’m hoping he’ll just tell me.

“I’m getting, like… super hard thinking about you visiting me right now.” He licks his lips and reaches between his legs. He pulled his shorts back on after his show, I think so we could talk with no pressure, but now he’s wrapping his hand around himself in his shorts and it’s obvious how long it is. If I hadn’t already basically memorized what it’s like by now, I’d probably be shocked at how big his cock is. Him doing that is enough to make mine throb. I can feel the blood rushing down there, I think. I want to… fuck, I want to be kneeling on the ground in front of him, if I’m honest. There’s somethin’ really nice about it that I want to experience in every way I possibly can.

Instead, I affect the smoothest possible tone and pray I don’t sound horribly creepy when I do it. “Super hard? What are you going to do about that?”


	34. Talking Dirty

“Well, if you were here, I’d suggest that I’d do something about it by pounding you into the mattress, but you’re not here, so I’m going to have to just handle it on my own, I guess. But I’m gonna look at you, that sound okay?” Yeah, it sounds really fucking okay to me. He’s got his hand around his cock and he’s leaned back in his chair and fuck, it’s a lot to think about and look at. I’ve never had sex before, and now there’s this guy, halfway across the country but still, there’s a guy, and he’d be willing to fuck me in a second?

I’m not really sure how to handle it other than I’m just dying to come right now. “Please fuck me,” is all I can manage to say, and I know he can’t. I know that. I get it. But for some reason it feels really good to say it, to ask him, to plead with him. It’s all I really want, just to feel him and touch him and beg him for more. I don’t know what it is about him. I’m intoxicated and have been since the first fucking time I saw him and it’s a lot. It’s so much to deal with.

“Yeah? You gonna beg me, baby?” He can tell that I like him taking that control and making me ask or beg I think, because the grin on his face when I can’t help but suck in air over him asking me that, the way I feel breathless and overoxygenated at the same time, it has to be obvious and written all over my face.

“Please, please, Link. I need you. Please,” I’m begging, and I’m so much more focused on that than on the hand on my dick but I’m still throbbing anyway. Watching him play with himself as I beg is overwhelming.

“God, yeah, that’s good. I’ll fuck you, baby. Come on over anytime,” he says with a wink. “Course, I still might make you beg for it when you get here. Just because it’s fun to watch.”

He’s being a tease and I’m so into it. I’m imagining it, showing up at his doorstep and him still having me get on my knees to beg him for it after flying forever away to get to him. “Fuck,” I am mumbling. I’m paying more attention to what I’m doing now, not just getting myself off but looking at the tiny rectangle that displays my camera to make sure I don’t look stupid while I do it. And like, it’s fine, I’m fine, I’m not  _ him  _ but I’m fine, and he seems to like what he sees because he’s working himself faster.

Then he stops. It’s sudden and I don’t get it and I worry I’ve done something wrong when he stops so suddenly. “I hate coming.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t like coming because then we have to get off of cam,” he mumbles, and I get it. I seriously do.

“We don’t have to,” I answer him. It’s a Saturday, and I’ve got all the time in the world. Maybe he doesn’t, but I do, and I’m offering.

“Yeah? You gonna keep talking to me after I finish draining your dick?” It’s a weird way to put it and I almost laugh at him over it. It sounds like something else, but I get what he’s saying. “If you were here, I swear I’d swallow every drop of your come.”

It’s not the most polished dirty talk I’ve heard him use, a little clunky, but that makes it so much more real for me. It’s not scripted to sound good, like I know he has to do sometimes. It’s real. It’s what’s actually coming out of his mouth when he talks to  _ me,  _ just us, and that’s something else.

I don’t even know how to answer him. I’m panting and I’m desperate and I hate looking this needy but I want him to know that I need him, want him, am dying to get close to him. “God, Link, I… please?” is all I can seem to manage.

“Yeah? You want me to suck your cock until you finish? Then just keep going until you’re begging me to stop, pulling my hair trying to get me off of you?” That sounds overwhelming and hot and I want that, more than anything I want it. If he keeps talking I’m going to come all over the place and I’ve barely gotten anything done to help him and I’m failing at making him feel good but it’s like he hasn’t noticed.

“I want that,” I breathe and I’m struggling to have the oxygen to actually say more.

“You want me to pin you down and slide my cock into you? You want me to fuck you hard? You want me to… god, you want me to flip you over and spank you until your ass is burning and bright red?”

“Yeah, I want you to do that, I want you to spank me.” He could have said anything right then and I would have wanted it.

“God, that’s hot, Rhett, you’re so hot. You’re just up for anything, aren’t you?”

“With you, I am,” I answer honestly, and a blush is creeping over my face. I can feel it. But there’s a matching on one him as he mutters “fuck” and then comes, hard, leaving-him-shaking kind of hard, and for a second he lets his arms go slack at his sides and he closes his eyes as he tries to breathe and I’ve never, ever seen him come that hard.

And then I come, too.


	35. Moving Fast

“There’s, uh... there looks like there’s a flight out next week?” I mention. I’m not really sure how soon he wants me to visit, if this is a “come see me four years from now” kind of thing or a “get here tomorrow” kind of thing, so picking a flight for next week and acting like it’s some sort of last-minute sale seems like my best bet, honestly. It kind of tests the waters.

“You think you can get here that fast? Like, do you  _ want  _ to get here that fast?” he asks, and obviously the answer’s yes. We’ve been talking for four hours since we got off and still haven’t either one had the desire to hang up, so I’m pretty sure we could work something out.

“Yeah, I mean, I have a little bit of money saved up.” That’s kind of a lie. I’m basically broke right now, especially after all the tips I’ve been sending to him. My family’s cool about keeping me relatively okay on money if I tell them I need it for school, or hell, even if I tell them I need it for coffee to get through study groups and shit. And I have a job on-campus, too, so that helps. It’s enough that I could probably scrape it together and not be totally fucked, but still.

“I won’t have an apartment yet probably.”

“It’s okay. I mean, if I get a hotel, would you want to stay over at it? I can get two beds or something.”

“Or you could get one bed and I could share it with you,” he suggests, and I feel dumb for not suggesting it to begin with. I guess I didn’t want to weird him out or put too much pressure on it.

“Okay. One bed. So what do you think? Next week?” I don’t know what I’m going to tell anyone. I mean, I’m going to skip out on classes, randomly fly to Las Vegas in a week, and then fly back? I guess I could just ignore the part where I tell my parents. They don’t have to know that I randomly flew across the country, do they? Come to think of it, do I really need to tell anyone besides Gregg where I’m at? For safety reasons, i should probably tell someone. It occurs to me that even though I’ve basically been obsessively watching Link, and even though Gregg knows him from when he lived here, I don’t actually know that he’s not a serial killer or something. Then again, it wouldn’t be the worst way to go out. He’s really, really fucking hot. Can you blame me for being a little reckless and wanting to go immediately?

“Next week is good. I like next week. Just get me the dates and stuff so I can pick you up at the airport, okay?”

Oh my god. This is happening. This is actually happening.


	36. Other Guys

“So um… now that you’re not with your old group anymore, you don’t have to fuck guys on cam, right?”

Shit shit shit, the way I worded that was really transparent. But it’s true. I don’t want him fucking other guys on camera. I know it’s not fair of me to ask. I’m not fucking stupid. I know that this is an unreasonable request, and the thing is, if he told me he had to, then whatever, I’d figure it the fuck out already. But I’m kind of hoping me asking is enough to tell him I don’t want him to and I won’t have to come out and say it.

“Honestly? It’s really good for views if I do a show with someone once in a while. A few people come for me but a lot more come to watch me get fucked, you know? Or to fuck somebody. It’s good business and I’d get my rent money faster.”

Oh. Fuck. He’s still going to be fucking dudes on camera? I really, really wanted that not to happen anymore, honestly. But whatever. He’s going to fuck guys on camera and that’s a thing I have to get used to. Or maybe it’s not. Because the thing is, the more we talk about sex on skype, the more we get off together, the more I’m pretty sure we’re going to fuck when I’m visiting him. So now I’ve got another thought.

“Okay. So does the guy you fuck have to be a cam star? Or can he just be… like… a random dude?”

“I suppose he could be anyone. Sure, a cam star is good for views because we can cross-promote, but, uh… I’d assume I could just do it with anybody willing.”

“That’s… that’s good to know.” 

He’s staring at me. Like, eyes boring through the camera kind of staring, like he’s looking directly at the cam and not at the image of me on the screen, and when he says something, it’s almost like he’s saying it in slow motion, the way he clearly asks “are you asking me to fuck you on cam?”

“Yeah.” It’s true. I’d do it. I’d especially do it if it meant he’d stop fucking other guys and fuck me instead. “I mean, I guess I am.”

“Okay. I’ll fuck you on cam, then.” I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into, but I can’t imagine things getting much better than the guy I like saying he’s going to fuck me, and I’m hard again because hours into this conversation, it’s been a long time since we got off in it. He can tell I’m hard, too, because he’s already ready to go, sliding his shorts down and showing off. “How about a round two, cutie? Just thinking about fucking you on cam has me really, really hard right now, see? You’re so sexy, just the thought is killin’ me…”


	37. Aching

I’ll never get sick of his hands on his hard dick, never get bored of hearing him say my name. He’s stroking fast and so am I, and then he’s asking if I’ve got lube. I nod, reaching for it, and he’s telling me what to do and I feel like I might die in the best ways. “Can you get your fingers real nice and slicked up for me, baby?” I don’t know why but it feels like he might like it if I stick them in my mouth, even though I know I’m supposed to use the lube, but I’m right because as I’m sucking on two of my fingers, stroking them with my tongue in as sexy a way as I can muster for something that feels so awkward (at least, until I imagine it’s his cock instead), he’s groaning. “God, you look so good like that,” he says. “Yeah, just like that, get ‘em really wet for me. Fuck, look at you. So nice.”

His encouragements make me want to keep doing this, but at the same time, I really want to find out why he wants my fingers slick. I flip open the lube cap and drizzle some on my fingers, the ones that still have my spit all over them, and he’s grinning.

“I want you to fuck yourself with your fingers, okay, baby?” he’s encouraging, and I’m nervous. “I want you to think about it being my cock. I want you to imagine how I’m going to fuck you on camera, how hot it’s going to be for you to sit on my dick while everybody watches.” His talk is smoother now, instructional instead of just telling me what he wants to do to me, and I’m listening, I’m doing what he asks.

Sliding one finger into myself is hard as it is, and I’m wondering how the fuck I’m going to get his cock inside of me. I can hear myself groaning and I’m so glad that I’ve got the entire room to myself because good lord, if people could hear me like this, it would be horrifying. But then I remember that I told him I would let him do this, fuck me on camera, and people would be doing a whole lot more than hearing me. They’d be seeing me, too, and I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into by making promises. I seriously basically told a guy I’d let him fuck me, when I’ve never even had sex before, on camera just to keep him from sleeping with other guys and that’s possibly a little bit crazy.

But that isn’t my focus right now. My focus is on how fast he’s stroking himself, the sounds he’s making, and how good it feels to slide a second finger into myself. I get that it hurts, and I can feel the pain and the pressure of it. The angle is a little awkward because even though I’d been trying it, I hadn’t done it that many times and I still wasn’t sure how to make it work the best.

He clearly likes what he sees, though, because he’s asking me how it feels, if it feels good, and then he’s asking me to fuck myself faster and harder. “God, we’ve got to get you a toy, baby, we’ve got to get you something that you can really give yourself a good fucking with when I’m not there. It’s too bad I can’t, uh, I can’t clone my dick, let you get used to how long it is before you get here.”

Getting used to it would be nice. I’m sure he can tell I haven’t done a whole lot of this before, but I never really spelled out to him that I’ve never had sex with anybody at all, and I’m not sure how he’d take it to hear that.

Instead, I do the best I can, fingering myself and trying to stroke at the same time until I can tell he’s close. I don’t even try to get myself off after that, instead wanting to see him come again. I’m lifting a leg higher, really trying to get in there, and just as I start to tease around with my third finger like I’m going to put it in, too, he’s shouting. “Aw, fuck, Rhett, god, argghhh” and I’m overwhelmed with how intense he sounds, like he’s almost doubling over on himself. He takes a few seconds to recover, then looks at the computer again. “You make me come so fucking hard, you know that? God, you’re fucking dangerous.”

I’m happy over the compliment, happy he likes me that much to think I’m dangerous in some way or another. I’m just putting my hand back on my cock when he curses. “Shit, the buddy I’m crashing with is home. Can I, uh, can I call you tonight?” He’s struggling to get his shorts back on.

“Yeah, you can, that’s cool.” We’re saying goodbye and he’s hanging up and he blows me a kiss which is so fucking cute I could squeal, and then I realize how ridiculous that sounds, so obviously, I’m not going to  _ actually  _ squeal.

As soon as the camera’s off, I realize how badly my balls are fucking aching. There’s one thing I know will get me off, and I dig through the mass amount of folders I’ve buried it in. I stuck it in places I didn’t think anyone would look, and it takes me a minute or two to open it. Since we’ve been talking again, I haven’t felt the need to use it, but it still makes me feel so many things every time I see it anyway…

It’s the video, the first time I ever heard him say my name.


	38. Hope u Enjoy

I’ve seen the video enough times that I’ve memorized it but it doesn’t mean it’s old or that it doesn’t get me off. God, it gets me off, and I’m aching, throbbing to finish after putting on that display for him only to have him have to leave. Obviously I don’t think he had to stick around and get me off or anything, but I still  _ need  _ to, you know?

There’s this idea I have as I start watching the video, but the thing is, he didn’t ask and I don’t know if I’m crossing a line. I realize as I’m opening my phone camera that I’ll probably just delete it as soon as I do it, but it doesn’t matter, because once the idea is in my head, I can’t help but at least try it out.

I prop my phone up on my computer, his video full screen with the volume low so he can actually hear me, and I’ve got my hand nice and slick. I’m turning it on, relaxing in my chair and jacking off, slow, then fast and furious, watching the video the whole time. I don’t try to keep quiet. I’m alone and I feel like the sounds he makes in the video are my favorite part of it sometimes, so I want to make sure he can hear me in case he’s into that, too.

I let myself groan and take heavy breaths and whisper his name because I want to, because it’s okay to, because no one can hear me anyway, and I can feel myself getting closer and closer. It’s his video that’s doing it but it’s the thought of him watching this one, of it doing to him what his video does to me, and I get it, he made this for me because I paid him to, but it doesn’t feel that way, not now, not considering everything, not after he told me he was thinking of me --  _ actually me  _ \-- when he made it.

So I’m thinking about that and thinking about him and I’m watching him and out of the corner of my eye I’m watching myself in hopes that this’ll be good for him if I decide to send it. I don’t have anything handy to try to use as a toy at all, so my fingers have to keep working, and I use those, just like he suggested, and I’m doing that until I’m coming. “Oh my god, Link, yeah, oh, Link…” I keep saying his name and thinking of him and thinking of how hot he looks when he comes and how much I want to feel that, feel him, feel everything.

I can’t breathe. I can but I can’t, and I’m so worn out. We’d already gotten off together and I’m drained, I’m so exhausted and I know I’ll end up taking a nap after this. We talked most of the day, fuck, practically all day, and I need a shower, I need food, but mostly I want to curl up and sleep. Without thinking, without letting myself second-guess it, I put the video in a text and I send it.

 

**Hope u enjoy this as much as I enjoy urs**

 

I never use grammar like that but I’m so tired, too tired to properly spell out words. I don’t even look to see if the video uploads, sends, whatever, if he sees it, nothing. Instead, I am falling face-first onto my bed.

And that’s when it hits me. I don’t just want him to fuck me. As I close my eyes, the last thing I’m really thinking about is how much I want his arms around me, too. I just want him to hold me.


	39. Eggplants

_ Oh my god. _

_ Holy shit, Rhett. _

_ That’s so sexy. _

_ Seriously, I watched it twice now. _

_ How many times are you going to make me come today? I swear to god you’re on a mission to completely drain me. _

_ God, I can’t wait until you get here. _

 

These are the texts I wake up to. They’re spaced apart. I didn’t mean to sleep for four hours, but I did. Just as I’m starting to respond, tapping back a message, an image loads. It’s of him, hand around his cock again, and I can tell it’s a little red and raw from how many times he’d jacked off.

 

**Shit. That’s really hot. Sorry for the lack of warning on that video, just thought you’d like it.**

_ You never have to warn me for shit like that. That was amazing. _

**I ended up crashing pretty hard after that. I think you wore me out.**

_ Wait until you get here and I really wear your ass out ;) ;) _

 

Shit. He’s killing me with the flirtation, killing me with the promises to wear me out and make me come and fuck me on camera and everything else he’s doing right now. I’m in so deep. But then I move and I’m acutely aware of how disgusting I am, how bad I smell and desperately need to shower. I head across the hall, toward the showers, stripping my clothes off and piling them on the bench just outside the cheap curtain of the communal bathroom space. I’m not hard, not really, but I put my hand on myself, give a few strokes, and I’m getting there. I take a picture and send it to him.

 

**Going to shower. Join me?**

 

It’s more flirtation than I’m used to sending through text. I’m not sure I even really know  _ how  _ to flirt through text, but it must be working because he sends back some shocked emojis, some heart eyes, and a few eggplants.

 

_ Shit. Yeah, I want to. If I were there, I’d be on my knees already. _

 

The last thing I really need right now is to get off again. I’m thoroughly satisfied after the first couple of times I’ve come today. But I think he’s about to test the upper limits of how many times I can get off in a day, because the thought of him on his knees in the shower with me is unbearably nice. I toss my phone onto my clothes and step in, letting the hot water rush over me. God, I can’t stop thinking of him.


	40. DTR

It doesn’t matter that the trip is six days away. I feel the need to pack anyway, to go ahead and get everything together so I don’t screw up and end up wearing something I wanted to take and have to do laundry later.

It’s hard to find times when Gregg isn’t in the room lately, to find a moment to try on clothes and make sure I don’t look like absolute shit when I get there. This is the first time I’ve ever been on a plane that I can remember. I mean, even when my family moved across the country, we drove because we had to bring our stuff. Even as a baby I wasn’t on a plane, so I’m sort of nervous about that as it is.

But I think I’ve figured out the clothes I’m taking. It’s Vegas, so I’m pretty sure it’ll be hot. Tank tops seem like a good idea, but I’m kind of nervous about my shoulders looking weird, so I have some tee shirts, too. Most of my underwear looks pretty decent, so packing the best of those makes sense, but I’m still wondering if I shouldn’t run to the store and pick up a new pack just in case. I think I’ve got almost everything except for pants figured out, but I assume jeans or whatever will look nice. I don’t know.

My bag is still open, since I’m not quite done, but I’m sick of packing so I’m working on homework.

“Gregg, what the hell?” I ask, because he’s rifling through my bag.

“Where are you going, anyway?”

“Home.” I’m lying because telling him the truth seems like a horrible idea. What am I even going to say?  _ I’m flying across the country so a guy who you used to know can fuck me on camera for everyone to see?  _ Yeah, that sounds real smart. Let’s try that one on him.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, and he’s pulling a bottle of lube out.  _ Fuck.  _ “You planning on, uh, having a little fun while you’re gone? Meeting up with a friend back home that I don’t know about?” I know he’s fucking with me, but how do I even answer that?

“Shut up.” I said. “I’m single, can’t I stay prepared just in case?”

“Right, okay, yeah. You’re randomly packing now so you can take a trip back home, where you still have a bunch of clothes and shit, later this week? Makes sense, man. Really.”

I kind of want to slap the snarky look off of his face, but he gets distracted by his phone.

“Hey, Chuck wants to know what your favorite color is,” he reads off of the screen.

“What?”

“I dunno, man, he texted me asking if I know what your favorite color is. No other context.”

“So L-uh, Chuck… is randomly texting you now? About me?” I’m confused, flattered, mostly confused.

“Yeah. Fuck if I know, man. So what is it? What’s your favorite color?”

“Gray.”

“G-r-a-y,” he says aloud, pressing the keys. “Gray? Really? That’s your favorite color?”

Why’s he asking stupid questions when I told him what my favorite color is? Why is  _ Link  _ asking Gregg questions at all? I pull out my phone.

 

**You could have asked me.**

_ Great. He told you? _

**Yeah. He’s standing right here. What’s the deal?**

_ Just needed to know. _

**You can ask me next time. You don’t have to text him.**

_ So in other words… he doesn’t know? _

**Know what?**

  
  


I’m playing dumb here. Obviously “he doesn’t know” can only mean a few things, either about him not knowing whether or not I’m coming to see Link, or whether or not he knows that Link and I are more than… you know, video chat buddies.

 

_ About us. About what this is. _

**What is this, Link?**

 

Seriously. What the  _ fuck  _ does he mean by that?


	41. Sort Of

_ I don’t know. Does it matter? _

**I was just curious. You were the one who brought it up.**

_ Okay. I mean, I’m not personally seeing anyone else until I meet you. _

**I’m not either.**

_ So then it’s sort of a thing, right? At least until we meet? _

**Yeah. It’s sort of a thing.**

 

I don’t know how to feel about the idea that it’s sort of a thing. I mean obviously I’m excited. That’s sort of what I’d hoped for. But are we sort of rushing things? Or maybe we’re not because I already said I was going to sleep with him? But then maybe I am because he sleeps with a  _ lot  _ of people? But that’s for work anyway, so maybe it doesn’t count?

Either way, I’m counting it as a win.

But now I’ve got a lot of work still to do about packing and leaving and… god, I don’t even know. I feel less nervous now that he’s sort of cleared things up that we’re a thing. Or, sort of a thing.

 

_ You gonna watch my show tonight? _

**If Gregg ever fuckin’ leaves.**

_ Only if he leaves? Not going to pop some popcorn and share the show with him? _

 

Is he wanting me to tell Gregg that he’s a porn star? What does he even mean by that?

 

_ I’m kidding, cutie. Grab some headphones and go to the bathroom. Watch it on your phone? I get stage fright when you’re not watching me ;) ;) _

 

That’s clearly not true. He did just fine before he met me and he did just fine all the times I stopped watching. It doesn’t matter, though because obviously it’s a great idea and I don’t like missing his shows anyway.

 

**Okay, I’ll watch.**

_ Good. Have something new to show off and I didn’t want you to miss it.  
_ _ Hey, btw, how big is your dick? I know it’s really thick but uh, I want to make sure I’m ready for it. _

**You want me to measure it?**

_ Yeah, that’d be great, baby. _

 

Obviously I’ve measured my dick before, but for some reason, I feel the need to prove it. I’m trying to figure out if I can somehow hold a measuring tape, my cock, and a phone all at once. I wonder if maybe I put it next to a water bottle or something instead? I don’t know. I’ll worry about it later. Right now, I’ve got to find my headphones because the notification just popped up that he’s streaming and I’m not missing another second.


	42. Cumban

It only took me a couple of minutes to find my headphones, so I’m really surprised when I log in to see him totally naked. Usually it takes him a while to get enough tips to make it to that level of nudity and it’s a little overwhelming to see him like that as soon as I open up the window on my phone.

Other people are tipping, and I’m wondering if I’m still banned from doing so. Not that I have much money to tip at this point… I just bought plane tickets  _ and  _ booked a hotel room for us. I’m basically broke as fuck right now.

“Thanks for the tip,” he says to someone. Not really sure who it is, but it doesn’t matter. “Oh, gosh.” His face twists with an obvious reaction, then goes back to normal.

Another tip causes an audible buzz that time and he grips the couch beside him. “Holy fuck,” he groans.

I’m reading the title of his show today and it says “quick show, trying something new.” I don’t know what that means or why it’s a quick show, but it is, apparently.

I decide, against my better judgement, to tip. I mean, I already loaded up some tokens before buying the plane ticket, so I may as well use them. I try a 5 token tip, and he lets out a small whimper, biting his lip and stroking himself. He reaches for his phone.

 

_ Ur not supposed to tip. _

**Bought the tokens before the plane tickets.**

_ God, you’re killing me. _

 

Someone else tips 50 tokens and he grips the couch again. “Fuck, y’all. You’re wanting to make this show  _ really  _ short, aren’t you.” I’m starting to get the picture. For some reason, the higher the tip, the more overwhelmed he is by… something.

Someone tips 150. He almost doubles over and I can hear a loud vibration. Oh my god. The tips are controlling something. Like. Something inside of him. Like I think he literally has a vibrator or some shit like, hooked up to his tips and he’s  _ feeling  _ each one and… that’s a little bit overwhelming because that means the tips I have left have a little bit of power to them. It means I can make him come if I want to. Or at least, I can when he’s a little closer.

 

**I still have tokens. I can make u cum right now if I want to.**

_ You going to? Or going to make me wait it out? _

**How much would I have to tip to not let you cum at all? Make you** **_really_ ** **wait for it? ;)**

_ You seriously trying to put a cumban on me? Damn… you’re filthy. _

 

There’s something hot about the fact that I can see him texting me, see him interacting with me and me alone when he’s got the camshow going. Every once in awhile there’s a tip and it makes him struggle a little bit.

 

_ Want to play a game? _

**Sure. What kind of game?**

_ U tip tokens. I’ll refund them, but we’ll make it sound like u tipped for a cumban. Then I can’t cum until I get a certain number in tips… we could make enough to pay for the hotel. _

**I like that plan.**

 

If we get enough to pay for the hotel, that would save me a ton of money. Then again, I could make him keep the money and put it toward a place. Decisions, decisions.

 

_ 1,000 tip, I’ll refund every penny immediately, I swear. I’ll paypal it right now. Don’t let me cum until 30k. _

**_bballSlayer tipped 1,000 tokens._ **

**_bballSlayer tipped for cumban_ **

**_bballSlayer: Good luck with that. ;)_ **

 

“Goddamn, 30,000 tokens until I can come? Guys, help me out here. I’m already close and I can’t come until I hit 30,000 now? Please, tip. You know I never beg but I’m begging y’all.” I love having this kind of power. Or at least, the illusion I have that kind of power. No one else has to know that it’s staged as fuck. No one else has to know a thing.

And either way, I get to watch him squirm as the tips roll in, 5, 50, 500 tokens at a time as he’s gripping the couch, desperate as it vibrates inside of him and I can hear it. And there’s nothing he can do about it.

30,000 tokens is a steep goal. I can’t remember a show where he went over around 20,000, and that was a show where he  _ was  _ allowed to come. This was supposed to be a short show and now he’s aiming for a massive goal and I’m wondering how he’s going to do it, how he’ll get there, what he’ll even be able to do to hold off.

And that’s when I get an idea.

 

**Try not to think about me sucking your dick.**

**_bballSlayer has tipped 50 tokens._ **

 

I watch him read my text right as the tip goes through, watch him grab his cock and squeeze it trying to hold off, watch him twitch as his eyes roll back a little bit.

 

_ Fuck you. _

**Planning on it ;)**

 

He’s got a massive grin now, focusing back on the stream. “Guys, come on, I’m dyin’ here. I really need to come. Look,” he says, and he’s showing how hard he is, how much he’s leaking. He’s running his fingers over the tip, precome stringing from his cock to his fingers.

The more tips roll in, the more whatever’s inside of him vibrates and makes his toes curl, makes him groan and reach between his legs to hold it in and push it against all the right spots. He’s only torturing himself further when he does it, but that’s half the fun as it is.

He’s only 10,000 tokens away, but that could take him an hour to get and he still can’t come. That’s a lot to put himself through. Tokens trickle in in increments of 5 and 10, a few 15s that are still just small vibrations but are constant enough to make his stomach hollow a little as he gasps and draws one of his knees up to his face, biting it in agony and pleasure.

5,000 tokens away has him almost catatonic. He’s not thanking people for tips anymore. Instead, he’s zoning out and trying to hold on, keep his focus on not coming.

 

**Don’t think about how hard you’re going to fuck me when I get there.**

**Don’t think about how tight it’ll be.**

**_bballSlayer tipped 50 tokens._ **

 

He’s audibly groaning and overwhelmed. “Fuck. Fuck, Jesus Christ, oh my God,” he’s saying, and he’s shaking. I’m worried I pushed too far, overstimulating him past his limit, and I’m a little bit amazed he hasn’t come anyway, given the look on his face. He’s getting so close to being able to come and all I want to do is tip what he needs but I’m almost out of tokens and I’m trying to hold on until the end, be the last tip that sends him over the edge.

1,000 tokens and he’s almost in tears. “Fuck, guys, I really need to come. I’m gonna have to, uh, I may have to take this out,” he said through gritted teeth, and I was worried that my plan might fail, that I might not get the chance to be the one to send him over the edge. “I’m trying hard not to cheat at this game but y’all are killing me.”

He’s trying not to touch himself and when he does it’s rough, like he can squeeze the come back in by being rough enough. “God, it almost hurts. Come on, please let me come.” He’s begging, pleading to come.

500 tokens, the end is in sight and he seems to be calming down a little, like he can survive a little bit longer, manage a little bit more. He’s trying to distract himself, I think, because my phone buzzes with the notification that he refunded my initial tip, just like he promised to.

 

_ I’m dying here. _

**Hold on just a little bit longer, baby. Almost there.**

 

I don’t know why I call him baby. I don’t know why I wouldn’t. It felt right, and I did, but I second guess it on and off until he texts me back.

 

_ I wish you were here. _

**I wish I were, too.**

_ I’d come down your throat ;) _

**Fuck.**

 

250 tokens and he’s slowly stroking himself, starting to get himself worked up again.

100 tokens and he’s biting his lip, stroking faster, ready to come, ready to let go of everything he’s been holding in for like an hour already. I pull out my phone because I want him to know. I want him thinking about everything that I’m thinking about.

 

**I’m gonna cum with you. Right now I’m thinking about being on my knees in front of you.**

**I’m thinking about how much I want to taste you.**

**How nice it’ll be to look up at you when I’ve got my lips around your cock.**

**You’re doing so good, Link.**

**Fuck, you look really good right now. Hold on just a little bit longer.**

**You’re going to do this, you’re gonna make it until you hit 30k, and then when I see you I’m going to suck your dick as a reward for getting through it.**

_ You’re killing me. _

_ I want you so bad right now omg _

**You’re so close. 50 more. Imagine slamming your dick into me.**

 

I have no idea what I’m saying or if it’s hot or if it’s terrible, but he seems to like it because his eyes are fluttering and his mouth is slack and he’s praying for release.

 

**25 more. You’re going to fuck me so hard, aren’t you? I can’t wait for it.**

_ Please… _

**20 more. Check it out. You’re so close. Any second now someone’s gonna tip and then you can let yourself cum. Wish I could taste ;)**

 

He’s 10 tokens away, and now it’s time. I press enter.

 

**_bballSlayer has tipped 10 tokens.  
_ **

**You’re welcome. Enjoy. ;)**

_ Watch and rmemembr I’m thnking of you _

 

The typos only make his need more obvious because then the phone isn’t just on the couch beside him, it’s falling to the ground and he’s coming all over himself, god, it’s all over him. “Thanks, everyone,” he sighs. “That was great.” And then the cam cuts out.

 

_ Call me. _


	43. Stage Fright

2 days.

2 days until I’m there and it’s hitting me that this is happening. I mean, I know I already packed, so obviously it’s happening.

But what if he’s a creep?  
Or what if we hate each other in real life?  
Or what if he thinks  _ I’m  _ a creep?  
Or what if I have to tell him that I’m a virgin?

Shit. I probably do have to tell him I’m a virgin.

What if it hurts?

What if I come too soon?

What if I’m bad at it?

He’s an actual sex worker. He’s had sex with people. A lot of people. He’s slept with actual porn stars and I’ve never slept with anyone and I’m going to fuck it up. Is it too late to get a refund on plane tickets? Maybe I can just tell him that I had a family emergency? Maybe I don’t need a refund. Maybe I just won’t go.

He’ll probably hate me.

But if I go all the way out there and I’m horrible, uh, he’s probably going to hate me anyway.


	44. Turbulent

The thing they don’t tell you about airplanes is that they’re not really built for people who are 6’7”. I’m still not sure why I’m doing this.

I mean, the thought of flying all the way out there so he can meet me and be like “nope, you’re actually horrible” is a little bit scary.

I mean I know he knows who I am, okay? But that’s different than meeting me. And different than realizing I have no fucking clue what I’m doing like the giant idiot I am.

But I’m on the plane. It’s not like I have the option of saying “you know what? Nevermind” when I get there. It’s not even like I can dodge him and get on another flight home. Pretty sure I’ll stick out like a sore thumb the second I get off the plane. And they’ll  _ make  _ me get off the plane. There’s not an option to just decide not to get off of it.

Which means I’m doing this. I’m seeing it through. And I’m making a massive mistake.

 

_ When are you taking off? _

**Any second now, I think.**

_ Tell me when they tell you to turn your device off, okay? _

**Okay.**

_ Fly safe. _

**I don’t think I have any control over that.**

_ You know what I mean. I want you to get here in one piece. Even if you don’t have control over it, I want to say it. Feels like good luck or something. _

**Thanks. I’ll stay as intact as possible.**

_ Okay. _

**I have to turn my phone off now.**

_ See you when you get here. I’ve got big plans for what I’m going to do with you. ;) _

 

Shit. I don’t know what I’m more nervous about with him saying that: the flight or seeing him. What if he wants to do something like… right then and there? Like in an airport bathroom or something? And I’m not ready because I’m a stupid virgin and I have no idea what I’m doing?

And shit. I promised him I’d be on camera, that I’d let him fuck me on camera if it meant him not fucking other guys and now I’m wondering what the hell I was thinking. I mean I’ll still do it. Anything to keep other guys’ dicks out of him. Or something like that.

What am I doing?

Also. Turbulence is a bitch. I already feel like I might hurl and now we’re bouncing around and my legs hurt from how they’re bent and I’m freaking nervous and I hate everything about it.

I’m nervous. I’m landing in like… an hour and I can’t stop thinking about what he’s going to want to do and how I have no idea what we’re even doing or what I’m doing or if he’ll hate me or if he’ll totally lose it when he finds out I’ve never slept with anyone and my head hurts and my stomach hurts and I just want to turn the damn plane around. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.


	45. Unplug

Oh my  _ God  _ he’s attractive.

I think it’s the one thing I forgot to think about, whether or not he’d look as good in person as he does online, but he’s way hotter than I expected him to be. Like ungodly hot. Like I’m probably going to burn in hell for the things I want him to do to me but I’d do it anyway because  _ look at him.  _ Mostly I’m thankful I’m nervous because that is literally the only reason I haven’t popped a boner right here in the airport.

“Rhett?”

He’s holding flowers. Not just flowers but  _ grey  _ flowers and now I feel bad for saying that’s my favorite color because I don’t think those were easy to find at all.

“Link,” I say, and now I’m not sure if I’m supposed to use his other name or this name or what I’m supposed to do. I just know that I want to touch him, want to pull him into a hug, and the way he’s standing there, he seems okay with it, so I do. He’s buried his face into my neck and I’m wishing we could stay like this forever.

But then he’s reminding me I have to get my bag because there’s that really loud, obnoxious sound coming from the thing that spins the bags around and I don’t have a choice but to pull away. It’s okay because he stays right there, tangling his pinky with mine, and it feels a little bit amazing and a little bit nerve-wracking. I don’t know what we’re doing. I just know that we’re waiting for the bag and then we’ll figure it out from there.

I don’t know if he has a plan. He hasn’t mentioned wanting to fuck yet, but then, he hasn’t really said much of anything outside of asking if the flight was okay. I don’t know what to say and it feels like maybe he doesn’t, either. A good half of our conversations online have been not conversations, but us getting off together, and I’m realizing that I might have been hasty in coming here.

Shit. Like. What do I even say to him?

It doesn’t matter because once we’ve got the bag he’s tugging on my hand. “Let’s go to the car?”

He opens the back of the car first, the trunk, and I’m tossing my bag in and I don’t know what to expect after that. I feel like maybe I should kiss him. I feel like maybe I shouldn’t.

I don’t know what I want to do or what’s okay to do and that’s sort of dumb because we literally said we were gonna fuck if I came out here and now I’m here and I’m scared as fuck to even like, kiss him or something?

God, I’m so dumb sometimes.

“Rhett?”

I turn toward him, and then his hands are on my chest and tugging at my shirt and I’m melting into him. His lips are soft, softer than I expected, but there are jagged edges like maybe he bites his lips which yeah, I’ve seen him do that, but now he’s sort of biting at mine and that feels so good and remember when I said I was too nervous to get hard? Well I lied because now I’m trying to shift my hips away from him so he doesn’t like… feel… because how fucking embarrassing is that that I’d literally be getting hard from a fucking  _ kiss _ ? But I’ve never kissed anyone that I liked before, never kissed anyone that I wanted to fuck before. I’ve only ever kissed girls and that was because it sorta seemed like I had to, but I don’t have to kiss him.

I want to.

I don’t know if it’s been five seconds or five minutes but his tongue is in my mouth and my teeth are grazing it and I’m wrapping my hands around his back and now I’m kinda less worried about whether or not he knows I’m hard because I want him  _ on  _ me, up against me, and now my back is against the car and fuck fuck fuck it’s hot, sunlight in Vegas and a black car exterior don’t mix and it’s sort of burning my back because I’m still wearing a hoodie since it was cold in North Carolina and cold on the plane and here’s it’s not because the sun the air the car  _ and him. Fuck. He’s so hot.  _ My brain’s fuzzy. I don’t know how I’m going to even remotely breathe for the next few days.

Do I need to breathe? Can I just breathe whatever air he’s putting into me from every single kiss because now I’m sure we’re closer to five minutes than five seconds and even though my back is burning neither of us have stopped until he’s pulling away and I want to scream  _ No! Wait! Stop! Kiss me!  _ But I realize if we just keep kissing then we’ll never get anywhere else to do anything else and fuck, I actually kinda want to do more than just kiss him. Not even necessarily sex. I just want to be all up on him and have him all up on me but I also want to sit down and talk and watch movies and see stuff like how he looks when he’s sleeping or eating ice cream or lying up against me and…

....shit. I’m way ahead of myself. We aren’t even in the car yet.


	46. Literally Dying

Link is a terrible driver. I didn’t expect that. He keeps getting distracted with music and singing along to it and he’s glancing around and looking at me and I keep wanting to reach across for the steering wheel because he forgets he’s driving when he talks with his hands and I panic and feel like we might die.

But that’s okay. If I’m going to die, at least I’ve done it after kissing him.

But then I remember I’m still a virgin, and I don’t want to die a virgin, not when he’s  _ right here _ . Like, if we could at least wait to wreck the car until the way back to the airport. Or, you know, not at all.

It doesn’t take us long to get to the hotel, though. We picked one that was cheap and off the strip. We can always walk if we want to go somewhere. It’s not  _ that  _ far. 

It didn’t take us long to check in, not really, even though I know he was a little concerned about me not letting him pay. He’d wanted to use the earnings from the show the other day but I don’t like that idea. I like the idea of him saving that for rent on an apartment. We’ll worry about it later. Right now, we’re not too concerned about that anymore because the door is closed behind us and I’m kissing him again. I’m not totally sure which one of us initiated it. I just know that we are doing that again, and it feels so good.

I don’t want to stop this, stop what we’re doing, stop anything. But it doesn’t feel like either of us are really pushing for anything more, too, and that’s totally okay.

If I’m being totally honest, I’m a little scared to take things any further than this, so it’s okay that he’s still just kissing me. He pulls back, but only long enough to suggest we get the flowers in water, and he’s right. As I fill up the hotel ice bucket with water, though, his arms are wrapped around my waist like he can’t stop touching me.

The reality is I can’t stop touching him, either. We only have a few days, and the things I was afraid about, the idea that we might not have the same connection offline as we do on, were unfounded for the most part. I feel like we’re magnets, and we can’t really pull apart from each other right now, and that’s okay. Eventually, we’ll need to eat. Eventually, we’ll probably want to take things further, but right now, I think we’re both just focused on being as close to each other as possible.

And if that means simply wrapping our arms around each other, my hands on the sides of his face to kiss him, his hands in the back pockets of my jeans, it’s hard not to push him back on the bed. It’s just that I don’t really know what to do  _ after  _ that keeping me from doing it.

Our kisses are only getting more passionate, deeper, and I can feel him shifting against me and I have to take a breath and pull back.

“You want to go get dinner?” he asks, and I feel like maybe he’s on the same page as me. We want to make this last, take this one step at a time, and dinner seems like a good start or else we’re just going to stay here and make out for the whole weekend. Not that I have a problem with that…


	47. Wings

It’s amazing how many wings you can get for a reasonable price in this town. Seriously. If you steer clear from the crazy tourist places, you can end up getting a fuckton of wings for like… nothing. Pennies each. Whatever. We’ve got a plate of wings between us and they’re hot but not too hot. He said he gets the hiccups anytime things are too spicy, and even though I think that would be adorable to watch, I don’t think that’s really what he wants, to be a hiccuppy mess.

I don’t know what the plan is after this really, if we’re going back to the hotel room, if he’s going to… I don’t know, maybe fuck me? Or maybe we’re going to go somewhere, do something, we never really talked about it. We decided to get dinner, and now we’re getting dinner. I imagine when dinner’s over, we’ll decide on the next thing.

“So why’d you pay for the hotel?” Link finally asks, after a couple of minutes of us eating wings in silence. We still haven’t totally figured out how to talk in person, even though we’ve managed over a lot of phone calls and skype sessions.

“Because you can’t crash on your friend’s couch forever.”

“Yeah, but that’s not your issue, is it? You helped me earn it, and you should at least get some of the benefit of it by not having to pay for the hotel, or at least not all of it,” he is telling me, and nudges my foot under the table. I don’t know if it’s accidental or on purpose, but I brush mine against his, and now he’s rubbing his feet against my feet and I can’t help but smile.

“It’s enough for a first and last month and a deposit. I checked,” I said. I pulled out my phone and opened a few listings I’d saved, passing it to him. “You don’t have to go with any of these, obviously, but you made enough on that show that you could. And anyway, if we do anything on camera this weekend or whatever, you can use it for furniture.”

“You’re still serious about the cam thing?” he asks, still scrolling through the listings on my phone and glancing up to meet my eyes. “You’re sure you want to do it?”

“Yeah, I mean… I guess so. I told you I would.”

“Rhett, anything you told me doesn’t matter. It’s what you tell me now. And it’s okay to change your mind.” I feel somehow like he’s almost warning me against it, but I’m not going to cave. I said I would, and I will.

“Nah, I’ll do it. Is there, uh… like… what if someone from home sees it?”

“Well, if anyone from back home sees you on it, for one, they’d have to explain anyone they told what  _ they  _ were doing watching twinks and jocks fuck online, wouldn’t they?”

“Yeah,” I admit. That makes sense. I can’t see anyone my family knows watching that, but then, if they did, I certainly don’t think they’d tell anyone.

“We can put a location block on.”

I’m pretty sure the sigh of relief can be heard across the restaurant. But then, he changes the subject, asks me about school and if I’m actually enjoying it. I’m not, not really, but I’d be able to get a good job after, probably, and I don’t hate it. I just don’t  _ love  _ it. It’s a career path, though, and he nods. “I couldn’t have done it. I don’t think I was really cut out for that.”

“But this, it’s like… it’s your long-term plan, then?”

“I don’t know,” he’s answering, and looks down at the wing in front of him, picking the chicken off of the bone instead of eating it. “It’s a thing I can do for now. Eventually I’ll lose my looks probably. I can’t do it forever, you know? Everything sort of fizzles. At this point I’ve got the whole twink image going for me. Everyone likes that. Especially the old dudes and straight girls, turns out. But, uh… I don’t know. I don’t think I can do it forever.”

“That makes sense.” It did make sense. “So that’s the only thing that would make you leave it? If you aged out of it?” I ask, and I can tell it’s the wrong thing to ask because he wipes his face with a napkin.

“You want to get out of here? Let’s get the check and get out of here. We can walk on the Strip.”

“Yeah, okay.” I feel bad for asking the wrong question there, but a part of me had hoped he’d say he’d quit if he found the right guy. Wishful thinking.


	48. Highs

It’s funny how quickly any of my worry that he was upset over it faded because as soon as we got to the lights of the strip, I was totally overwhelmed. I still kind of am. It’s bright and there are so many people, and the way he’s holding my hand makes me feel like he’s not so upset and maybe I just misread things.

He’s pointing things out, since he’s lived here a little bit now and he’s seen some of this stuff already. I like seeing the Strip through his eyes and seeing the things he thinks are most exciting. We’ve got a real temptation to go in and take a risk on some slots or something, but honestly I feel like I’ve already won the jackpot just being here with him, so I wonder if we should tempt fate at all? It seems like I’m already as lucky as I can get.

“You just want to go back to the hotel instead?” He’s asking and I’m nodding, feeling him tug me around a corner and kiss me again. It feels like we’re getting more passionate and maybe a little desperate and I’m not sure how much longer we can actually wait before jumping each other’s bones so it makes sense that we’d head back now. It doesn’t seem fast enough and I think I overestimated how easy it would be to walk back to the hotel from the strip because we keep stopping to kiss and then realizing if we want to do anything else we  _ really really  _ need to get back right now.

I’ll be honest, it’s impossible not to get hard now. He doesn’t taste like wings anymore, he tastes like mint gum and then his hands are on my ass and his thumb is hooking into the waistband of my jeans and I’m dyyying.

It’s a struggle to wait for the elevator but it gives us time to make out and this time I’m pushed up against the wall and his teeth are against my neck and he’s already unbuttoning the top buttons of my shirt and we aren’t even at my floor and this is happening, oh my god, this is happening. I’m letting him tug me out of the elevator, but then we’re having to get back on it because we got off at the wrong floor. Neither of us are paying attention and who the fuck cares if we are bothering everyone else in this elevator and I think I said that I need him way too loudly because as I open my eyes, I’m getting glared at by an old woman but I can’t help it.

At our floor neither of us can find the key card in our wallets and I’m worried we forgot to bring them with us until he finally manages to pull his out and fumble with getting it in the door because one hand is still on me.

“You okay with this?” he’s asking as he pushes me on the bed and oh my  _ god am I okay with it?  _ Yes, I’m fucking okay with it, and I answer by nodding and sliding his shirt off and throwing it on the ground because shit, I just need him on me, I need him with me, I need him everywhere and he’s rubbing against me while he makes out with me and he’s sliding a hand into my jeans and I can feel his hand on me and oh my god, fuck, this is… wow… I can’t even explain how it feels and then he’s pulling off of me a little bit and he starts giggling.

“Is… did I?” I’m worried that I screwed up somehow, that my inexperience is showing and he’s mocking me or something, so I sort of scramble away from him. He’s still laughing. “What the --?”

“It’s… I’m so sorry, It’s… you’re fine,” he’s struggling out between giggles and I don’t understand what’s happening. “I just… I’m… oh gosh, this.. Embarrassing… shit… I’m sorry…” and he can’t fully make out every word but now there are tears streaming down his face and I don’t know if it’s from laughter or something else but he’s holding his stomach still laughing. I just sit there because what else do I do? He calms himself and tries to compose himself the best he can but nervous giggles still bubble up between words. “I’ve never,” he laughs, “done this like… with… like this…” he’s laughing still. “I’ve-never-done-this-with-someone-I-like,” he pushes out as fast as he can, and suddenly, neither of us are laughing.


	49. R.J.

“What do you mean, you’ve never done this with someone you like?” I don’t understand. I seriously don’t understand what he means. What the fuck does he mean?

“I… my first time was weird, okay? It was more to forget about the guy I liked and just, you know, get it over with. And then I sort of screwed around for a while with a guy I didn’t really like in North Carolina. I came out here after that, started doing this for work. I never, uh… I guess I never got the chance to actually do it with someone important. And… and this feels important to me.”

“You’ve never…”

“Never, Rhett. You’re the first person that’s mattered and I’m… I’m kind of nervous about it.”

This is news to me. Like, big news. Like I figured he’d done this a million times and with a million guys and that he’d never be nervous about it and this feels weird. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect him to be the one losing it right now and I’m overwhelmed. I don’t know what to do to make him less nervous.

“Do you… do you want to pretend like this is for work? We could go on cam? Then it wouldn’t feel, uh, wouldn’t feel so nerve-wracking?” I don’t know why I’m suggesting this. Am I actually suggesting that I lose my virginity on camera? I mean it’s not like he knows that it’s my virginity, right? But… what am I actually, uh, what am I suggesting?

I guess i’m suggesting that we’re going on camera. And he’s nodding. “You sure you’re okay with us going on camera like, our first time together?”

“Yeah, why not?"

If it makes him feel more comfortable, makes him feel okay with this, then that’s what we have to do.

“Okay. You need a porn name.”

“Oh.”

I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I hadn’t considered the fact that now I wouldn’t just be  _ Rhett.  _ And obviously I can’t use my real name, not planning to, but it didn’t mean I’d thought through to actually making a porn name yet.

“What about, uh… what’s your middle name?”

“James,” I remind him.

“R.J.?"

“Yeah, okay. I could be R.J.”

That settles it. I’m R.J. now. At least on camera. And since he’s logging in and we’re getting ready to go live, I don’t really have a choice but to be ready to be R.J. I’m about to have my first time. I’m about to have my first time with someone I care about. I’m about to have my first time on camera for anyone to see.


	50. Actual Virgin

“Y’all gonna help me break in this virgin?” he asks in his on-camera persona, which he somehow flips on like a switch, and I wonder how he knows, but then he clarifies that I’m a cam virgin because I’ve never streamed before and I’m wondering if he knows how close to the actual mark he is there.

It’s not that weird being on camera at first. I mean, they’re tipping us to kiss and it’s so soft, so gentle, the way I cup his face and the way he licks my lip and the way that he looks at me after. It all feels so  _ real,  _ not like something we’re doing for a camera because someone told us to. I like it. It’s almost like I can show everyone how I feel about him, how much I like him, how much I like kissing him.

And I do.

I could kiss him forever and never stop.

But then someone tips for a dick flash. And, uh… I’ve never actually seen his. Not in person. I’ve seen it on a screen a ton, but… but in person is different. And it’s not just his dick that’s being flashed, it’s mine, too, and Link stands up and I stand up and I’m shaking. I’m literally shaking and I hope no one can see how badly I’m shaking.

He drops his pants and I can’t take my eyes off of it. Holy fuck. It’s so long. It’s so big and it’s so perfect and it’s so… so… I can’t even understand how it is. It’s… wow. Fuck.

He nudges me and I have to take mine down, too, to take mine out, and the sight of his, jeez, when I pull mine out it’s obvious I’ve got a semi and… I mean, okay, that’s… that’s fine.

“Wow,” he breathes, and I feel even better, even bigger, even harder. When we both pull our pants back up, the effect it had on me is obvious and I’m worried that’s a little weird but the comments like it and he rests his hand on my leg so I think he likes it, too.

There are more kisses. Kisses are easy. I like kisses. And then someone tips with a special request and asks him to kiss my chest and oh god, he’s taking my shirt off and his lips are on my chest and his tongue is on my nipple and his fingers are on the other one and holy  _ shit _ , this is too much it’s too much it’s too much it’s so good.

I don’t want him to stop but I need him to or I might just come from that alone and holy shit, I know I’m making noises I shouldn’t necessarily be making and I roll my eyes toward the computer screen just to give me something to focus on and the commenters are noting how much I must like it and yeah, I really like it and Link looks up at me, and I look down and there’s eye contact and I’m dying dying dying he’s perfect oh my god.

We kiss again, not for a tip but because I can’t help it and it doesn’t matter, we have to, I need to, and I think he needs to, too, because it’s a really long, slow, careful kiss.

And then there’s another ding.

A blowjob.

Oh my god.

I can’t do this.

I don’t know.

I don’t know how to do this.

“You talkin’ me giving R.J. one or me gettin’ one from him?” Link’s asking and I’m praying they’re telling him to do me because then maybe if I watch what he does I can figure it out before it’s my turn, but they’re telling me to suck his dick.

“I--uh… I--” I’m stammering and I sound stupid. I lean into Link and I whisper and pray the mic doesn’t pick it up. “I don’t know how.”

“What do you mean?” he whispers back.

“I mean I’m an actual virgin.”

“Holy fuck.”


	51. Pointing Blame

He’s cut the stream short and he’s cursing. “Goddammit, oh my god, Jesus…” he’s buried his face in his hands and he’s freaking out and I feel so badly.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I should have said sooner. I… I didn’t know the right time to bring it up and then I was scared you’d hate me and now you do and…” I’m rambling and I feel bad for putting him in this position and he’s still not answering me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Rhett, stop.”

He’s almost certainly never going to speak to me again. I’m sure of it. He has to hate me. I sort of hate me. 

“I’m not mad at you.”

What? How can he not be mad at me? I didn’t tell him I was a virgin and then he ended up getting me on a stream and having to cut it short because I don’t even know how to give a blowjob and he’s not mad at me?

“I’m mad at myself,” he clarifies, and there it is. I’m waiting for it, for him to tell me he’s mad at himself for trusting me and mad at himself for believing this could be a thing and he’s mad at himself for whatever but then he leans in and kisses me and I’m not expecting that. “I’m so sorry, Rhett.”

“What?”

“I almost let you… almost  _ made  _ you… lose your virginity on a livestream. That wasn’t okay of me. We were doing this and then I panicked and you tried to make it better for me and… and… and I almost let you do something really major without having been prepared for it and, God, I’m so sorry.”

I never thought about it that way. Like, I never considered the idea that me letting him fuck me on stream was that huge of a deal. It made him more comfortable and that’s all that mattered, wasn’t it? I mean, I don’t know. I don’t understand.

“I need you to wait here. Watch some TV, take a break, and I’ll be back.”

“Wait, where are you going?” I’m confused. I don’t understand why he’s leaving. Is he mad at me? Is he going to come back or did he change his mind? What is he doing?

“I need to get some things, okay? But I promise you I’ll be back as soon as I can. It’ll take me an hour, tops, and then I swear I’ll be back. Trust me.”

I don’t understand but I can’t really argue. I nod and agree and he kisses me and then he’s gone.


	52. Not Coming Back

He’s not coming back.

I mean that’s obvious, right? I admitted that I was a virgin and he left and now he’s not going to come back. He’s probably going to be back at his friend’s house on his couch tonight. I’m half-tempted to call or text and thank him for the time we had, half-tempted to call a cab to the airport and take the next flight home, half-tempted to lay here and cry.

But I can’t seem to do any of it. Instead I’m just laying here, frozen, paralyzed in frustration and fear and hurt. He left. I told him and he  _ left  _ and I hate that.

I should have told him sooner. I should’ve told him before I got to Vegas. I should have told him from the beginning. That’s the thing. I don’t blame him at all for leaving. I blame myself for the fact that he did. I blame myself for him walking out that hotel room door and telling me he’d be back and then him going.

He can say all he wants that he’s going to come back, though, but come on. Would anyone come back at that point? I don’t know that I would if I were him. I don’t know that I  _ could  _ if I were him.

But that doesn’t make my heart ache any less that he’s gone. I tried flipping through the TV channels but that seemed so pointless. How could I watch anything when someone I basically thought I was falling for just left me?

I thought about going somewhere or calling for food to be delivered because if I’m not going to leave and he’s not coming back then I may as well stuff my feelings down with food but that seems stupid, too.

I’m just sitting here. I’m sad and I’m lonely and I’m scared because I’m in a weird town I’ve never been in and he’s not coming back probably ever.

I wish he would have been honest but maybe he was scared about how I’d react.

My brain is getting away with me and there’s an ache in the pit of my stomach and I wish beyond all things that he would have told me he couldn’t do this, couldn’t handle being with a virgin, not when he’s an adult entertainer, not when he literally does porn.

I can’t really stifle the tears in my eyes now, the more that I think about how great he was and how he walked out. I can hear the door rattle, a scuffle of sounds at the door and then he’s back. He’s right there in front of me and he’s holding two plastic bags and… and he’s back… he didn’t leave. He meant it when he said he was coming back and I’m not at all prepared to see him in front of me oh my god.


	53. Kind of Shitty

“It would probably be easier if you top. I mean, if you want to like, uh, fuck at all.”

I get what he’s saying. I get why he’s saying it. “I can if you want,” I said. “I sort of want to do everything with you, though.” I feel dumb for saying that but it’s true. I want to do everything with him. And I mean  _ everything _ .

“I kind of figured that,” he tells me, and then he sets the bags on the bed. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I had trouble finding some of it.”

Shit. Like… he never planned on being gone that long and I feel  _ so  _ badly for thinking he’d never come back. Oh my god. He went to go get stuff to make this easier and I totally thought he was leaving and how horrible am I?

“Anyway, we don’t have to talk about this right now but I sort of got everything you might need. Unless you already have it. I guess I should have asked.”

“Um. Have what?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Well, uh, I guess we should start from the beginning. How, uh… what do you, um…” he’s stumbling on his words and I’m not sure what he’s trying to ask and I feel weird because maybe this  _ is  _ weird. “How much do you know about, uh… sex… with… with guys?”

I feel badly for admitting this, but my experience is basically limited to his stream and a few others. And some gay porn. And… and that’s about it. It’s not like I can’t think of crushes I’ve had on guys, like, in hindsight, but in terms of actual sex? My knowledge is basically zero.

“So you haven’t, like… done any research or anything?”

“Was I supposed to?” I feel like I’m failing a test I didn’t know I needed to study for. I sort of figured sex was just… you know, sex. That I could meet someone and things could feel right and we could just… have sex. Apparently that’s not the case, though.

“No! No, it’s, uh, that’s what this is for. But basically if you’re going to, um, if you’re going to ever bottom or anything, or mess with toys or whatever, there’s, like… there’s stuff you have to do to prepare.” He pulls out some stuff and sets it on the bed and I feel really weird because I just admitted I was gay like, not that long ago and now someone’s sitting here talking about gay sex with me and not just  _ someone  _ but someone I want to have sex with and I know I should feel comfortable talking about this with him out of anyone but I still feel weird, like I should know this stuff already. My eyes must be awfully revealing because he reaches forward and touches my cheek. “Breathe. It’s okay. We all have to learn this.”

“Okay."

“Or, uh, basically I  _ didn’t  _ know this and… I’m trying to spare you, trust me.”

“What do you mean?”

“So, uh, I told you that when I first um, when I first came out, I sort of slept with someone and then not long after that I ended up moving here and working in this industry, right? And I sort of left a part out there because it’s so embarrassing and I hate it… but um… I didn’t really, uh… I didn’t know all the details of how to have sex, you know?”

“Okay. What do you mean?” I’m not sure where he’s going with this.

“So uh… I didn’t know the ways that I had to, um, prepare ahead of time if I was going to bottom, you know?”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. He can see the confusion in my eyes as I shake my head.

“I sort of accidentally got shit all over his dick.”

“Wait, what?”

Suddenly, sex seems a whole lot more complicated than I thought it was.


	54. Bottoming 101

“I mean, with sex, like… you know, if you want to ever do  _ that,  _ like, have me fuck you in the ass, if you don’t get it cleaned out or whatever, that’s going to happen. And a wipe or toilet paper or whatever, it just sort of cleans the surface but you’ve got all of that  _ in  _ you… and I mean… um. Not to brag or anything but I’m kinda long, so…”

“You’re really long,” I agree with him and I’m trying to figure out what the obvious solution is here. “So basically I need to clean more than just, you know, yeah… so, uh… how the fuck do I do that?”

He lifts up a bulb and he’s showing it to me. “This. You fill this up with water. I usually use, uh, use warm-ish water, and then you just… you… you insert it basically. And squeeze the water up there.” He seems like he feels weird about telling me this and I feel a little bit weird about listening to it but we  _ have  _ to talk about this because the last thing I want is to get anything on his dick, you know? The last thing I want is for him to fuck me and have that happen and it be a messy situation or whatever.

“Okay. So I shoot water in my ass. Then what?”

“Then you, uh… you push it out. And you repeat that until it’s clean. Or, clear. Or… you know… basically you’re not getting anything else out of there. I usually do like, 2 or 3 bulbs at once if I’m doing a quick clean, and then repeat that several times until I’m not getting any more crap out, you know? When it’s clear water, then I’ve basically done what I needed to. You can do a lot more than that, like a more extensive sort of thing, but then you probably need a hose attachment and… it’s just a lot more complicated and you have a dorm shower so the bulb is fine. It’s fine.”

A hose attachment seems a little bit intense, so I take the bulb from him and give it a few squeezes. It’s new and has a weird silicone smell to it, but I guess soon it’s going to, you know, go in my ass a little bit and probably won’t stay that way.

“Oh. When you’re done with it make sure you clean it. And only ever squeeze the water in. Don’t release the bulb and suck stuff out or you’ll get shit stuck in it. Squeeze, remove,  _ then  _ release the bulb so it fills with air and squeeze the water and shit and stuff out. Don’t like, let go of the bulb early.”

“Got it.” This seems like so much to remember that I’m a little bit stressed about it. Also the idea of shooting a bunch of water up there seems really weird. “So I just do this, like, before we fuck?”

“Or before you use a toy. Or before you fuck anybody. Or before I eat your ass. Or… you know… any of that sort of stuff.”

His bag has other stuff in it and I’m not sure what he’s got to tell me next and the whole bulb thing was kind of a lot so I’m nervous that the rest is going to be even crazier. Then he pulls out wet wipes and that seems fine and way less intimidating than the bulb. “Internal cleaning,” he points to the bulb, “surface cleaning,” then to the wipes, “prep work.” He holds up a bottle of fiber pills and shakes them. “It’ll make it easier in the future, you know? Kind of pack it all together and get it out better.”

“Ohhhkay.” It’s a lot of work. Like a lot more work than I realized. “So… I should do this now, then?”

“I mean, it depends on when you want us to, um… do you want to, uh… Should you… or…”

He seems really nervous. Which is funny because he’s a pro at this and I feel like  _ I  _ should be the nervous one but somehow him being nervous makes me feel more calm? I lean in and kiss him. It’s okay. It’s seriously way more okay than he is making it out to be. “I want to have sex with you, Link. In every possible way. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah. That’s okay with me.”

“So… I guess I should go do this, then?” I pick up the bulb again, and he nods.

“Do you need my help at all?”

“Do you  _ want  _ to help with this?” It seems like a sort of messy thing for him to help me with… I mean, the whole process literally seems to consist of dealing with shit. Unless that’s some kind of kink for him, I can’t imagine ever wanting to help someone with it.

“Not really.”

“Okay. Then no, I think I can figure it out. I’ll, uh… I’ll yell if I need you. I might shower, too, okay?”

He nods and kisses me. “Thank you.” I don’t know why he’s thanking me. I’ve done nothing. He went out and bought all this stuff to help me have sex with him and he’s thanking me? I don’t get it at all. Either way, he’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met and I’m wondering how exactly all of this happened… and I’m a little worried about how it might crash and burn.


	55. Advanced Engineering

If I thought his explanation was a lot to take in, it had nothing on the actual execution of it. I mean, I think I’ve been standing here for a solid three or four minutes just trying to figure out what temperature is the right temperature of water to squeeze into my ass and like… how do I even fill the squeeze bulb thing? I started off just trying to get the water in it through the little hole but that wasn’t working and I think shooting a fuckton of air with a little bit of water is probably the wrong choice.

I’m a fucking  _ engineering  _ major and a little ball of water is beyond my skill set. Anyway, the trick is you fill the sink. Like, you put the little stopper up and you fill it and then you squeeze the bulb and get the water in. And that’s, you know, like… I did that part.

But now I have to stick it in my ass. And here’s the deal. Maybe that’s easy for people. But I’m a giant, lanky-ass 6’7” tall guy and… I don’t know how to bend that way in a tiny-ass hotel bathroom where I’m trying to basically wrap my limbs around themselves to find the right angle to shoot water into my ass and I don’t just have to do this once but a bunch of times and what the  _ actual  _ fuck am I doing?

There’s a large part of me that is kind of thinking maybe it would be best to walk out, admit defeat, and tell him that I’ll just fuck him. But here’s the thing: this literally means this is the kind of shit he has to do for me to do that and then I feel like I am just this giant dick to be like “k, I know you have to do the same sort of prep but I just  _ can’t  _ so here, take the damn bulb and let me fuck you.” Kind of seems like a dick move on my part.

And yeah, he has more practice than I do, and yeah, he said I could just, you know, fuck him this weekend or whatever.

But also Rhett Fuckin’ McLaughlin doesn’t chicken the fuck out of stuff. So I’m going to figure out how to get this in my ass and… oh. Okay. Well, I did it. But… now I have to squeeze and holy fuck that feels so weird. Why didn’t he tell me how weird it feels? Like this isn’t like my finger going in there, you know? My finger is only so long and this is water and the water is going… places, man. Like. Wow. This is an entirely new sensation and it’s not unpleasant. It’s not. But also this is step one of a whole damn  _ process. _

Let’s just hope that I’m even a little bit fuckable after this because right now I just feel a little bit gross, honestly.


	56. A Lot of Fucks to Give

“So, um. Is there a problem that we cut the stream short?” That’s something I’m worried about. Something I hadn’t really remembered to worry about until I was in the shower and I was thinking about it and then it was pretty clearly apparent to me that I  _ needed  _ to worry about it. What if his fans were mad? I mean, someone had tipped for that and didn’t get it.

“I told them we had technical difficulties and that the hotel we were streaming at had an internet issue, but that we’d be back as soon as we could. And then, you know… we just won’t come back and I’ll tell them the Internet stayed out and it’s not our fault. That’ll buy us some forgiveness.”

“So nobody’s mad or anything?”

“If they are, they’ll get over it. I’m not worried about it, Rhett. I’m worried about you. I’m worried that we almost did stuff on a stream when… when this was new for you. I… should have known and sort of should have asked to be clearer and I di--”

“Stop.” I hate the fact that he feels bad for me not telling him. It’s not his fault I was an idiot and waited for the last second to say something. “It’s my fault and I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I was scared you’d hate me or decide that you didn’t want to do this or something. You have… you’ve got like… I mean…”

“I fuck a lot of people,” Link cut me off to clarify and I feel bad that I’m basically implying that, not just implying it but saying it, like I’m somehow slut-shaming him or something. I’m not. I’m… I’m okay with him being more experienced than me. I mean, I  _ met him  _ because this was who he is and… I can’t be mad at him for that.

“It’s okay with me that you do.” I finally say it. I feel like I’ve waited too long after he said what he said to say it but it’s okay because he’s kissing me and that’s what I like. I like the feeling of his tongue against mine and the way he breathes on my skin and the way he’s leaning me back, not like he’s itching for more but like it just feels natural for him to lean me back while we kiss because we want to be closer. I love being close to him and wrapping my arms around him and getting my hands on that slender waist of his and oh, fuck, I have it so badly for him and I’m realizing that yeah, I almost killed myself in the bathroom trying to contort myself to wash my ass because I would do anything he asked me to, anything to get us closer. I’d break my back to make sure that he could fuck me if I had to and that’s just how it is.

“You’re amazing,” he’s telling me as soon as his lips are off of mine for a second, but then they’re back  _ on _ mine and it’s like he never stopped kissing me but there’s something different, something powerful about this compared to all of our other kisses and I can feel his hands sliding under the shirt I put on and I can feel the way that our breath is changing and I feel like maybe this is going to be more. I need him I want him I feel so close to him and… and… I don’t even know how to explain how I feel.

What I know is… I think we’re about to take this past kissing and I’m… fuck. I think I’m actually ready.


	57. Premature

I can feel his hands working their way under my shirt more. He’d already started that but now it’s like his hands are  _ on  _ me everywhere and I need him to take my clothes off. Or is that something I’m supposed to do? I don’t really know. I just know that he’s hot and he’s  _ on me _ , and I want all of this so badly.

“Is this okay?” he whispers into my ear as he touches my chest, as his fingers tease my nipple and I am so, so, so hard and I want to scream yes, yes it’s okay, please don’t stop, please keep touching me, but instead I choke out a breath of “yeah, yeah, this is good,” and it is. It feels so good.

“You’re so sexy, Rhett. Gosh. Look at you,” he says to me, and I never, ever thought anyone would think I’m sexy. I’m too long in all the wrong places and too scrawny but also too chubby on my stomach because I never stop eating and oh my god, he’s so perfect.

“You are,” is the only answer I can manage. It feels too good. What he’s doing  _ is  _ too good.

“Here,” he says, “sit up a little bit.” I do, leaning toward him, pressing my body against his by accident as I lean up, but that seems to be intended because his mouth is on my neck again and his hands work their way around to my back as he slides my shirt up and off of me. This is happening and he’s taking my clothes off and he’s kissing down my body and I feel so good. Like, I feel like every place he kissed is on fire and I’m having an out-of-body experience and I can picture the line of kisses like a constellation in the sky but like, burning hot and overwhelming and I just want to feel  _ more.  _ His tongue is on my nipple and I’m dying. I might come now. I might finish right here before he ever takes my pants off because him kissing me there, tonguing at my skin like that, it’s too much too much too much and feels so good and oh my  _ god  _ why didn’t anyone tell me this felt so good?

I feel like I need to do  _ something  _ for him but I can’t really reach anything so instead I’m just running my fingers through his hair and tangling my fingers in the strands and he must like it because he’s moaning against my skin and oh my gosh, is he grinding against my leg? He’s grinding against my leg!

“Oh my god, Link,” I’m saying without realizing that I formed the words in my brain because my brain is on fire right now, every file in it screaming because what’s even happening?

He’s kissing down my body. He’s grazing teeth on my skin and it feels so good. He’s kissing my hip bones and to be honest, I didn’t even think my hip bones were really a thing that could get me so turned on but they are and it feels so good. I want him to stay there forever and also I don’t because I want him to keep going because I kind of think he’s going to suck me off and holy shit… am I seriously about to get a blowjob? From a guy? From a hot guy? From a guy that I might just be in love with? Because yeah, I think I am.

I can feel him unbuttoning my pants and pushing them down and I can feel myself lifting my hips up to let him, but for some reason it still doesn’t feel like I’m doing it. It feels like I’m watching everything from above us because holy shit, none of this feels real but also all of it does and I’m overwhelmed by the entire situation.

He’s got his hand on my cock. Oh my god. It feels so good. I want this to last forever. I want to last forever. I want to feel this for the rest of my life. He feels so good. And he’s stroking me and I’m having trouble breathing. “Oh fuck,” I can feel myself saying. “Oh my god. Holy… that’s… you’re so good,” I can feel myself saying. I’m arching my back off of the bed and I don’t know, it just feels right, he feels right, this feels right. I can feel his breath on my skin, on my cock, on my body and he’s so close to it. He’s kissing the side of it and yeah, I’m leaned up looking, watching him do it and he looks so good. In fact, I have to prop myself on my elbows and watch because I need to see this. I have to see this. I have to see him kissing up the length of it and looking up at me and his eyes are so blue, oh my god, they’re so blue.

He’s still holding my cock, stroking my cock as he moves it, wrapping his lips around the tip of it and… oh god. Oh my god. He’s taking it deeper and shit, I want to hold off but I can’t and I’m groaning and I’m coming and it feels too good, so good, holy shit. “Fuck, Link, I’m…” I can’t even talk or form words right.

I’ve come too soon, before I can warn him, but he’s taking it, swallowing it and I can feel him swallow around me and oh my god, what the fuck? It feels amazing. I can feel every movement of his tongue, of his mouth, can hear him whimper a little but also can  _ feel  _ it and I’m… wow. I can’t think straight. I can’t think at all. He’s flicking his tongue over the tip and it’s so sensitive and I almost recoil because it feels so good and a little overwhelming and almost painful from how great it is.

“I’m so sorry,” I said and I am not entirely sure why I’m saying it as he pulls off of me but then it hits me because I’m still talking and I’m saying “oh my god, I came too fast, I’m so sorry,” but it doesn’t matter because he’s kissing me. He’s on me, pinning me to the bed and he’s kissing me.

“It’s okay. You were perfect. You’re so perfect.” He’s kissing me again and it feels good and he feels good and right and everything wonderful in the world and I never want to leave this moment right here, him on me, me completely overwhelmed and lost in this… I think I’m in heaven.


	58. Popping Link's Cherry

It hits me after a few minutes that I should, you know, reciprocate. He got me off and I haven’t done anything for him and I’m scrambling. “Oh! I can, uh, I should…” I’m rolling us over and I’m trying to take his clothes off but I’m awkward and fumbling and not entirely sure what I’m doing here. I kiss his chest and I’m really, really into how good his chest looks but then he’s stopping me.

“Rhett, shh, stop, babe… stop…” 

“Sorry. Did I, uh… I was trying to uh… I did it wrong, didn’t I?” I sulk. I’m not really sure  _ what  _ I did wrong, but he just smiles and kisses me.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I just, um… can we just lay down for a few minutes? And, uh… and not do anything else?”

I’m worried that I pushed too fast, or worse, that I didn’t reciprocate soon enough and that the moment is gone, but the way he curls into me feels nice. He’s laying his head on my chest and he turns his head to kiss my ribs and then lays his head back down and it’s like he’s trying to listen to my heart or something. I’ve got my hand running up and down his back and he’s smiling. He seems happy. Like… happy with us just doing this. And that makes me happy, too. Even if I’m worried I messed up. It makes me happy that he’s happy and that this is happy and that this feels nice.

“You know I’ve never done this before,” he says.

“What?”

“I mean, like… cuddled after or something. Just sort of, I don’t know… been  _ with  _ someone, and not just with them? It’s nice.”

“It is nice,” I agree. But part of me is a little broken right now. My heart is, at least. My first time, like, ever doing anything… it’s with him and we get this after. He’s done this stuff how many times? And he’s never had this? It feels… wrong. I mean, not wrong, but like… but like I’m a little mad that nobody ever did that with him.

Is that weird? That’s probably weird.

But what I’m going to do is cuddle him and not let go and he’s just going to have to deal with that for a little bit. Because I’ve got a lot to make up for, it sounds like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer one next time, y'all. I promise I'm not always garbage.


	59. Symmetry

I don’t know how much time passed before he started kissing my chest. I know that it was enough time but also not enough time because I could hold him forever. But I also like the kisses. I like the way he’s working his mouth along my rib cage and moving to straddle me like he’s ready for more. I like the look in his eyes when he looks at me like he’s starving and wants to devour me.

But more than that, I like how he is dipping his head down to kiss me, to bite my lower lip and tug at it and work his mouth to my jaw and then my neck.

But honestly, he already got me off once. He gave me what I needed. And yeah, sure, I want more. I’m horny and I’m having my first ever time with this guy and I really want more, but the thing is, that’s not how it works. I want to touch him. I want him to let me touch him.

So I decide I’m going to. I flip us and I pin him to the bed, my wrists resting on his arms so he could move if he wanted to, but god, I really don’t want him to.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s your turn,” I’m telling him, trying to remind him, and I’m kissing his collarbone. “Want to make you feel good,” I promise, but then I have to correct myself. “Want to try…” because I have no clue what I’m doing. I glance up and he’s blinking at me, bright blue eyes looking at me, almost studying me. I’m still naked and he’s still very much  _ not  _ naked and I want to remedy that as quickly as I can. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathes and he’s flopping back onto the bed, no longer looking at me, and that’s what I want. I want to be able to do this, to get to work on it in peace without a lot of worry that he’s watching to see if I do it wrong. Not that I think that’s why he was watching me or anything but, I mean, what if it was?

I’m peeling his pants down and onto the floor and oh my  _ god  _ he’s so long. I know I’ve seen it, and even seen it in person, but holy fuck. I really want to touch it right away but I’m remembering how he took his time on me, kissing everything but my dick for a long time, thinking about my legs and my stomach and my hip bones and wow, it felt so good to feel him kiss my hip bones so I want to do that. I want to kiss them and lick them and I sort of try grazing my teeth along them and holy fuck, the way he moans when I get my teeth on his skin is really intense and makes me happy. He likes it, I think. I press my teeth to his skin a little harder but not a lot, and he whimpers. “Fuck, that’s… yeah…” and I know I’m on the right track so I bite. I bite his hip bone and he moans and puts a hand on the back of my head and holds it there in place like he doesn’t want me to stop and when I finally do, there’s a mark. My teeth are right there, an impression in his skin and I’m worried it might bruise but he’s tracing his fingertips over it. “I love that.”

It’s what he wants. It’s like he wants it to hurt a little bit, the way that I bite him on the hip and all I want to do is leave a matching mark on the other side so I do. Symmetry and all of that. But then I don’t think I can wait any longer. I can’t resist getting my mouth on him. I mean  _ on him  _ on him. My hand grazes his cock and I’m a little bit in awe of it. It’s not just long but, like, weighty. I mean I know what a cock weighs and all that. I’ve got my own, thanks. But there’s something about it being his, it being his and that being in my hand, with me having this power to give him pleasure and make him happy and jeez, it’s a lot of pressure but it’s really exciting and my stomach hurts but in a good way and I’m stroking him and oh my god, he’s groaning and arching his back.

I remember what he likes and how he flicks his thumb over the tip sometimes. It feels like it’s all come full-circle because watching him do that was one of the first things that made me keep watching his stream. I wanted to see what he did so I could do it, and now I’m using what he did to do it… but now to him instead of me. 

I just want him to feel good. That’s all I want, all I need. I want him to be happy and mostly I want him to come. Like. In my hand or my mouth or all over me, I don’t care, I just want him to come and I want it to feel good. 

He’s breathing heavy and I know I want to taste him, want to get my mouth all over him and I’m going to. God, I’m going to. He’s so long and I am licking at it. I mean, I have no clue what I’m doing so I’m kind of, uh, well, now I’m doing what you do when you get a chilly willy from the freezer and sort of half-lick it while it’s in your mouth and you’re trying not to cut the sides of your lips but also you want to suck some of the thing into your mouth? That’s what I’m doing and fuck, he tastes good. Like, his precome, sure, but also just… him. The way he smells and feels is part of it but there’s something about the taste of him on my tongue and the way he moves as I do what I’m doing and I feel like he likes it a lot?

I know he’s gotten better than what I’m doing from people who know what they’re doing but he’s telling me “that’s good, yeah, that’s… ooh, right there’s nice…” and it’s helping. It’s making it more obvious what he likes, and when he gets quiet, I can tell what’s not his thing.

He’s rolling his hips and his hands are in my hair and I just want more of him and yeah, I can’t take him that deep because he’s long, he’s so fucking long, but I’m doing what I can and oh my god, this is amazing. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up.”

Good.  _ Good.  _ I want him to come. I want him to release that and feel that and let me have it, let me take it, get it on me, oh my god…

“Oh fuck… like… seriously… I’m…” his words are coming choppier now like he can’t focus on one thought and that’s okay. After how he broke my brain earlier, that’s what I was hoping would happen for him anyway. “Shit…”

He’s coming and I’m choking on it. It’s fast and it’s hot and it hits the back of my throat and I sort of gag and a little comes out of my mouth I think but I swallow it, and it’s like… I don’t even know. It’s salty and it’s sweet and it’s different than mine but I’m not sure how to explain how it’s different or what it tastes like compared. I just know that I could do this every day and it would never get old but now I’m laying my head on his thigh and he’s running his fingers through my hair and this is what I want. This is everything I ever wanted. Oh my god.


	60. Second Best

I don’t know how long we’ve been here like this. We fell asleep against each other, holding each other, curled up in each other and I want to stay like this for as long as I can. He’s beautiful when he sleeps. I’d wake up a little bit, the fall asleep and wake up to him looking at me, and then we’d both doze off again. It was nice. But now we’re both semi-clothed. And by semi, I mean we tugged on pants because we’re waiting for Chinese food to get here.

I’m thankful for all-night delivery here, because otherwise I’d be dying. We both woke up hungry. I mean, I think we’re a little hungry for each other because I’m having trouble keeping my hands and my mouth off of him while we wait, and he’s not stopping me. He’s kissing me, biting my lip, looking in my eyes like he’d devour me if he could and it’s amazing. It’s exactly what I want. Part of me wants to stick a note and a tip on the door and tell them to leave it in the hall and we’ll get it when I’m done getting him off again, but we’re both starving. We are.

The knock left me scrambling toward the door, mostly because the sooner I got back from carrying the food in, the sooner I could get back to bed with him, back to touching him. But I have to sign for the food, an extra step between closing the door, eating, getting Link on me again. Not that Link is keen on waiting, clearly, because I’m literally in the middle of signing and he’s jumping onto my back, piggy back style, wrapping his legs around me and his arms across my chest and kissing my neck.

“Hey,” Link is saying to the guy delivering the food as I pass him the receipt. “See how handsome this guy is?”

I’m blushing. Like, I can literally feel myself turning red right now, bright red.

“See? He’s handsome, but look at that blush. He doesn’t even see how handsome he is. What do you think? You think he’s handsome?” Link’s asking and I feel weird but it’s also cute. It’s like he’s trying to show me off in some sort of weird way and I’m standing there not sure of what to say.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess,” the delivery guy shrugs and hands us the third bag of food and I’m realizing we might have over-ordered a little bit. “Just the two of you? It’s a lot of food.”

“We’re hungry,” I say, shrugging the best I can without knocking Link off of my back. He slides his legs down my body and it tugs my pants down too far but thankfully not so far they reveal anything. He kisses my shoulder.

“Really hungry. You know. That happens when your boyfriend is as hot as this guy.”

Boyfriend?

Did Link seriously just call me his boyfriend?

He’s probably joking, right? Like, he doesn’t actually mean that I’m his boyfriend. It’s probably just hard to explain what we are and how complicated it is, right?

“Well, uh, enjoy?” The guy says, and then I close the door.

My brain is  _ screaming  _ right now. Like, yelling loudly to the point I don’t know what to say to Link or what to ask him or what to do but he’s taking the bags of food and setting them on the desk and instead of opening them he’s kissing me, twining his fingers with mine and I have a feeling we might be waiting to eat the food we were just desperately hungry for because right now it seems like we’re hungrier for each other and that’s okay, that’s so okay.

He’s walking me backwards and my knees hit the bed and then I fall onto it and he’s on me, he’s smaller than me but also somehow covering me with his slender body and he’s kissing my neck. “You hungry?” he asks and I can’t answer right away because he is flicking his tongue over a patch of skin on my neck and that’s all I can think about.

I shake my head no, finally able to sort of compose myself and he’s groaning against me “neither am I.” Shit, I don’t know how we went from starving to just wanting to be all over each other but I am not in any way complaining about it because fuck, he’s so perfect. Oh my god.

“You should fuck me.”

Holy shit. Link just said those words and I don’t even know how to respond other than “really?”

“Yeah. I want you to fuck me. You want to?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I remind him.

“So? Fuck me, Rhett. Please?” He’s on his knees on the bed, hovering above my face a little bit with his hands on my wrists and he’s running his fingertips on my skin and fuck fuck fuck, oh my god, I’m gonna fuck him. I’m going to fucking  _ fuck  _ him.

“Okay.”

“God, you’re amazing,” he says and I don’t know why he says it, but then he’s springing off of the bed and shuffling in the bag and grabbing stuff out of it and flopping back down beside me. “You wanna put it on or do you want me to put it on you?”

“You, uh, you can put it on me if you want.” It’s my way of saying that I don’t fucking know how to do it without reminding him yet again that I’m so, so inexperienced.

The way he does it is insane. Like, I’m already ready. Just the mention had me ready, had me all desperate for it, so I’m ready as he rolls it on. And he’s not just rolling it on. Like, I think it’d be easy, but he’s putting his mouth on it and sliding the condom on me with his mouth and like… holy fuck. That’s… god, it looks hot. If I wasn’t already more than hard I’d be even harder now. How is he so good at everything?

“You ready?” he asks, kissing his way up my chest and biting my lip a little bit.

“Yeah.” Fuck yes, I’m ready. Is there even a hint that I might not be? Holy fuck, I’m about to lose my fucking virginity in a room that smells like Chinese food we didn’t eat, at god knows what time, and like, it’s perfect. It’s exactly what I want it to be. Or, I think it will be. I don’t know. All I know is he’s pouring lube on me and he’s slipping some into himself and it’s so nice to watch him do that, to slide his fingers in and out of himself like that and I’m still laying on the bed and shit, what am I supposed to do? How are we going to do this? Just like this?

“You want me to ride you, or you want to, uh… to try something else?”

I don’t know what to say. I’m not really sure what the best choice is. I think maybe him riding me would be easier so I don’t have to figure out what to do, but maybe that’s lazy of me. I realize I haven’t answered as he leans in and kisses me again and says “how about we start like this and you let me know if you want to try something else?”

“Okay.”

He slowly sits on my cock and it’s heaven. Like, he’s warm and so tight and it feels amazing and oh my god, is this what it’s like? Because this is so different than my hand or his hand or his mouth or anything I’ve ever felt and I might die? I might come right now? He’s so tight on me and feels so good around me and oh my god, this is amazing. It takes him a few seconds to fully get on me, to let me all the way in, but just watching his ass like, devour my dick… wow. That’s… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wash that memory out of my mind and I really don’t want to. I want to replay it forever. He gets a little faster and it’s so good, feels so nice, and as he leans back, he’s groaning. I can’t help but get my hands on him and I find myself holding his hips, and at first his pace is moving my hands up and down but then my hands are moving him up and down and I’m thrusting into him, like… fuck, I’m actually guiding  _ him  _ now and shit, this feels so good, oh my god.

“Yeah, fuck me, god yeah, fuck me like that,” he’s saying and oh my god, I swear it gets me harder. It’s like I can feel my cock twitch as he says shit like that and it’s everything. I can feel him tight around me and it’s insane and he keeps going, keeps riding me and I keep thrusting and he leans down, kissing me but doesn’t stop moving his body, sliding himself along every inch of my cock and thank god he seems coordinated at this because I have a feeling I would have fucked it up by now but then he’s kissing me again and sliding off of me totally and moving.

“Here, get up.”

I do what he says and he flips himself down onto the bed, back against the covers, legs spread as he lines himself up with the edge of the bed. “You want to try this? You want to stand up and fuck me?”

Yeah. I really fucking do.

So I do. I stand up, and his legs move to my shoulders like he knows exactly what the plan is and I’m pretending to know. I am. I’m trying to figure out what the fuck I’m doing. And I slide back in, watching his face, watching the way he looks up at me, reaches for me, squirms to one side to grab my ass and pull me deeper and holy shit, this feels so good.

There’s something magical about feeling him around me, about pumping into him, and oh my god, I don’t think I’m going to last long at all. It doesn’t matter that he basically sucked me dry earlier because jeez, he’s going to get me off immediately and I swear, I’m going to come so hard. I’m practically shaking pushing into him like this and he’s looking at me, blinking at me.

It only feels right to lean forward, to press my chest to his, to kiss him and tell him how good he looks so I do, I tell him he looks so good like that, and he kisses me and it’s perfect and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am fucking him. Oh my god, I’m fucking him. I’m losing my virginity and my brain is a million places but right now my brain is also just  _ here.  _ It’s here, fucking him, fucking him like he’s the only person I ever want to fuck, fucking him like we’re all that exists in the entire world right now, and for a little bit, I think we are. Nobody else matters. Nothing matters but this. Nothing matters but him.

“Rhett, lean up a little bit. Look.” He’s directing me, telling me to stand up, so I do, and he’s reaching up trying to put his hand on my cheek. “Watch… baby, watch yourself, look. Look at how good you fuck me, Rhett. Look at how good you’re doing, how good you’re making me feel.” I look down and fuck, holy shit, watching him stretch around me, watching me disappear inside of him, watching the way his skin moves and the way he’s got a grip on himself and he’s stroking himself while I fuck him, it’s all too much, so much, I’m moaning, I know I am. “Come for me, Rhett. Come on, fuck me so good. Fill me up, baby. Come on.” He doesn’t have to encourage me to get me off because I’m ready to come already, but him telling me “god, you feel so good. Fuck, yeah, fill me up, Rhett,” is doing it for me and I’m coming. Oh my god. I can feel my body tense and I can tell that he can tell it’s happening even if it’s wrapped because he’s groaning and clenching around me like he’s trying to milk it out of me and fuck, that’s so hot.

I can’t keep fucking him until he comes. I don’t know if I’m supposed to, but I know I definitely can’t. Instead, I’m pulling out and tossing the condom aside and crawling up on him, hovering over him, wrapping my hand around him and I’m trying so hard to make sure he comes. He pulls me in, bites my lip, and then as I groan into his mouth, I can feel him glaze my chest with his come.

Fuck.

I just lost my virginity.

And it was the second-best thing that’s ever happened to me.

The first best? Link muttering “holy shit. I think I’m in love with you.”


	61. DTR Remix

“What?”

“Our food’s getting cold,” Link is saying, and he’s shaking his head like I won’t just know what he said, like I didn’t hear him, like this didn’t happen.

“Link,” I say, and I’ve got a hand on his cheek and I’m looking at him. “It’s okay.”

“I mean, I don’t know, Rhett, just, uh… can you forget I said something? I really didn’t want to say it during sex and I really wanted to wait to say it because this is all too fast for me to do that and--”

I don’t know how to snap him out of this. He seems to be malfunctioning or something, just babbling, so I kiss him. His explanation said a lot of reasons he didn’t want to say it, but his explanations didn’t say one very important thing: he never once said he didn’t mean it. I’m holding onto that. He can tell me when he actually wants to, can tell me when he feels better about it, but the thing that matters to me is that when he said it and took it back, it wasn’t because he didn’t actually feel it. That’s good, that’s really good because I’m feeling the same way and I didn’t know when to say it but the answer is pretty clear: not yet.

He’s still kissing me, we’re still right here in this space together and yeah, the food got cold, but who cares? Link just had sex with me, and Link loves me. Food seems irrelevant right up until the point my stomach growls again and I can’t really help it. I don’t even  _ feel  _ hungry. I feel excited and happy and I feel like I want Link to fuck me now, to be honest, but we literally just had sex. Food seems a little more reasonable in this moment.

I’m not sure how I do it, but somehow I manage to pull myself away from Link. I don’t want to, but I do it anyway. “You want me to heat stuff up?”

“Yeah, okay,” he’s answering and we’re opening containers, and I’m wondering how hungry we thought we were to order three bags of food. Egg drop soup, spring rolls, crab rangoon, egg rolls… it’s all piled into one bag and I swear we got three orders of everything. We’re not heating it all up. We’re focused, grabbing food and crowding onto the bed beside each other. We can shake the rice off of it later but right now I just want to be close to him and I can’t do that seated at the desk in the room.

He’s no good with chopsticks. Truly, he’s horrible with them which is a surprise because he’s so good with his hands, but with a fork, he’s managing to feed me some of his noodles and he’s so cute, oh my god, he’s so cute, and he’s looking so good right now, so soft and happy and smiling with a smile I’ve never seen before. He smiles on stream but this feels different and I’d love to think it’s because I make him happy. Maybe someday I’ll find out that’s true.

“Hey, Link?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” Oh my god, why did I say that? Why did I ask him? Why did I open my stupid fucking mouth? After everything he just told me about things being too fast, what the fuck am I doing?

“Yeah, ask me anything, babe,” he says and he looks at me and now I don’t know how to ask anything else so I just sort of sit there. “Rhett?” He looks a little confused and I feel bad because I mean, maybe I shouldn’t have opened my mouth until I knew what I was going to say exactly.

“Um. I know before I came we were both kind of like, I don’t know… we both sort of had like, talked about how this was kind of…” Shit. I’m failing at this conversation. I’m really bad at this. I don’t know how to ask him to tell me what he meant. “When the, uh… when the delivery guy was here, you um… you…”

“I called you my boyfriend to him, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.”

“I don’t know, Rhett. I mean, you’re the only person I want to, like… to have  _ this _ with right now. I should have, um… I should have said something to you first, though, shouldn’t I have? I wasn’t trying to be weird or confusing.” He takes a deep breath and I’m still sort of waiting for him to explain, but maybe he already  _ did  _ explain. “I’m torn.”

“What do you mean?” This is the part where he’s going to take it all back, isn’t it?

“I mean I want really badly to have the, uh… to have the ability to take this slowly, but I’m sort of bad at that, aren’t I?”

I still don’t know what he means.

“I feel like I’m in this place where I want to be like ‘you’re my boyfriend, you’re my person,’ but then I remember I’ve got a job and I’ve got to keep camming and I’ve got to do these… these things. And I guess I feel like I keep letting shit come out of my mouth because right now, I’m not thinking about that. But then I think about that and I realize that I can’t really push you into this, not when it’s… not when it’s your first thing like this, you know? That’s not fair of me. So… I guess I’m just sorry I said it.”

“So… you didn’t mean it, then?” I want to cry. I want to break down and lose it right here.

“What I feel and what makes sense for us are two different things.”

“Why? Like, why can’t we just go with what we feel and figure shit out from there?” I’m frustrated and I’m angry and I don’t get what the fuck him camming has to do with any of this. So what? Like, it isn’t like I didn’t know from the beginning that he was, you know, being watched by thousands of people or whatever. It’s my issue if I go ahead with this when I already know that about him.

“I want to be with you, Rhett. I do. But it’s not that easy. It’s really not. I don’t think you’re really thinking about it if you think it is.”

“So then where does that leave this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LC will be posted as scheduled on Saturday, but will NOT have a Monday update as I will be on a brief vacation. See you Saturday!


	62. Do we/Don't we

I don’t really want to look at him, and I don’t want to feel the hurt when he tells me that he doesn’t want this. I mean, obviously I can tell he wants this, okay? I get it. But I also get that… I don’t know. I know it’s complicated.

I just don’t want to  _ think  _ about how complicated it is.

So I don’t. I listen. And I wait. And I hope he’s going to say something that doesn’t hurt like fucking hell to hear. But he hasn’t opened his mouth yet, and I’m not really sure when he’s going to talk, so I’m sort of shoving my rice around the container and hoping he doesn’t notice that right now I’m so nervous that for basically the first time ever, I don’t think I can eat.

“As long as I’m in Vegas, I have to be on camera to afford to live somewhere. You said it yourself -- I should use that money for an apartment. And as long as I’m on camera, I’m afraid of how that’s hurting you when I am, you know, if this is… something.”

“You can call it something or not call it something or whatever you want, Link. It’s still going to  _ feel  _ the same because yeah, okay, it was cool of you to call me your boyfriend, but you don’t have to for me to be all-in with this, you know? You going on cam as my boyfriend versus you going on cam as the guy I lost my virginity to, that I’m head over frickin’ heels for, it’s all going to feel the same on my end.”

“Even if we aren’t, you know, a defined thing? You’re still going to feel that way?”

“Yeah.”

“So if I am like ‘listen, I can’t be your boyfriend because guys still have to fuck me, guys that aren’t you’, you’re just… you’re cool with that?”

“I’m not fucking like, cool with it in the sense that I get off watching you get nailed by somebody else, no. But I’m fucking cool with it as in like… you have to do what you have to do and I support you. I don’t have to like the idea of watching you with somebody else to understand where you’re at here. It doesn’t change shit for me, Link. It never changed shit for me. If it was something I couldn’t deal with, I wouldn’t have flown all the way across the country to see you. Don’t act like we didn’t both know.”

“If you  _ were  _ my boyfriend, uh… I don’t know. What would you see that being like?”

It sounds like he’s considering it. Like he’s considering the idea that we’re together or something.

“I feel like we’d talk on the phone, on cam sometimes. Visit each other when we could. Eventually make plans to, I don’t know, be in the same place longer, but mostly right now just… talk. Focus on each other. Off-cam, not sleep with anybody else, I guess, if this were to be a defined thing. I can’t tell you what to do on-cam. That’s your job and your business or whatever.” I mean, it’s true. I can’t see what else it could be. I have to go back to North Carolina in a day and a half. He has to stay here.

“We already do all of that.”

“Yeah.”

“So… so labeling it doesn’t really change who we are or how we feel, does it?”

It sort of feels like he’s about to tell me that if it doesn’t change anything, why label it? Which… makes sense but sucks. There’s a huge part of me that wants to, I don’t know, internally know that he’s mine, even if I can’t have some sort of external claim on him.

“No, Link.”

“Then it sort of feels like if you’re in, and if I’m in, and the thing is, I’m in, maybe we’re not wrong to go with my gut instinct, the stuff I told the delivery guy before I could think about it?”

“What are you saying?”

“I guess I’m saying that I do want this. Like… us. To, I don’t know… be an ‘us’, Rhett.”

Holy fuck. We’re… an actually defined thing.

I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. In life, with this relationship, with anything but this moment.

Because now I’m kissing him, and that’s… yeah, that’s real nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No update Monday because I'm on vacation. See y'all next week.


	63. Hunger

“Are you hungry?”

“I don’t know. Kinda. Not really.” The thing is, I’m basically always hungry. If there’s one thing Rhett McLaughlin is, it’s fucking hungry as fuck all the time.

Except right now I’m not that hungry. Hungry for him, maybe. Not so much hungry for, you know… food. So I tell him not really, obviously, and I shrug, and he sort of cocks his head to one side and I have no clue what he’s thinking. “What?”

“I’m just thinkin’,” he says, and that’s always an interesting way to start things, I guess. What’s he thinkin’? I don’t have a clue, but I’m hoping he tells me quickly before I die of anticipation. I take another bite of my rice even though I’m not hungry because it’s in my hand and what else am I supposed to do when I’m this goddamn nervous?

“Thinkin’ what?”

“I mean, I know we, uh… I know we kinda already got off a lot this weekend, and like, not that long ago…”

He’s right. It’s only been like an hour since I fucked him, but it sort of sounds like he wants to do it again and my cock is pretty much ready if the way I can feel it sort of twitch at what he’s saying is any indication.

“I’m just sayin,” he starts again, and he’s hemming and hawing around things and I’m wondering if he’s ever going to spit it out and I’m also wondering if he’s always this nervous around people because you’d think for someone who does this all the time, it’d be easy to say stuff about sex, but then he’s talking again and I’m trying not to think too loud to hear everything he has to say, “if you, uh… if you’re still game to bottom or whatever, we might want to not eat too much Chinese or the whole, uh, douching thing is going to sort of… I’m just sayin’ maybe we could fuck and then eat if you wanted. Or I mean, we don’t have to, we can eat instead and you can tomorrow or not at all or--”

“Yes,” I’m saying, even though I’m really fucking nervous about the fact that I’m saying it because oh my  _ god  _ are we actually going to do this now? Am I actually going to bottom for him  _ NOW?  _ I think that’s what I’m saying because I’m closing the lid to my container and I’m standing up and taking it to the desk and reaching for more of the food to put it away and I can feel the words coming out of my mouth saying “I’m ready. Let’s do it” even though my brain right now is just a loop of what the fuck, oh my god, what the fuck, oh my god, this is happening, oh my god.

He doesn’t say a lot at first, instead helping me clear the food. I don’t really know what he’s thinking but I don’t really want to ask because maybe that’s weird of me. But then he’s pulling me closer, and he’s wrapping his arms around my waist and it feels nice, feels so good, and I’m looking down at him. “You really don’t mind? Like, you want to do this?”

“Yeah,” I nod. Of course I want to do this.

“I mean, if you want to keep topping you can. I’m fine either way. But, uh, you know…” he trails off and I can’t help but kiss him.

“Link, I want this.”

“Good,” he finally exhales. “Because honestly? I’ve wanted to do this for a really long time.”

“How long?”

“A lot longer than you’d think.”

No, that’s not cryptic at all. What does that even mean?


	64. Dicked Down

When Link said he wanted to fuck me, I kind of assumed that he meant he’d, you know… fuck me. But it’s a lot different than that. It seems like he’s taking his time because he hasn’t started even getting his dick anywhere near me.

I can feel him breathing on my skin, on… on my ass, oh my god, it feels good. He has me face-down, spread, and I can’t hardly believe it but he’s taking his time and he’s really up close and personal and oh my god, I hope I did everything he told me to well enough with the wipes and the douching and all of that because… uh… he’s like, really, really close to me there.

Oh my god, he’s running his tongue on my skin and… fuck, okay, that feels good and weird and amazing and I really like what he’s doing. I love the way he’s touching me and the way his tongue feels and how he is pushing it in and oh my god, this feels amazing. I can’t even think straight, can’t believe what he’s doing, can’t… jesus, I don’t even know at this point, okay? Like, this is heaven and I was to focus on every single thing that this feeling is doing for me. I’m in awe and I want to cry over how good it feels and I’m not even a crying kind of guy, okay? Like that’s not me, but jesus, this is… wow. I can’t describe it.

Him pushing one finger into me is fine, like, I’ve done this. I’ve, uh… I’ve gone this far on my own and jeez, he can really get it in there more than I can because he’s at a better angle. Oh fuck, oh fuck he’s moving it and it’s perfect and I just want to stay like this forever except I don’t, I want him to fuck me, but I do because nothing can feel better than it feels for him to be licking around his finger while it’s in me and oh my god, that’s… jesus. I feel like I can’t even convey how good it is because my brain isn’t working. It’s not. It’s not even kind of working. It’s just fried.

It feels like he’s taking a long time without any sort of chance at fucking me, and part of me wonders if he’s decided  _ not  _ to fuck me? Maybe this is his plan, to get me off with all of this and to not even -- oh shit, he’s adding a second finger and I can feel it, I can feel the way it stretches and oh my  _ god, oh my god oh my god _ , this is something else. I can’t handle it. I know I’m moaning and I know I’m freaking out and I know he can probably tell that I’m totally losing my shit but I don’t care. This is what I want and what I like and I want him to know I want it and like it and oh. My. god.

When he kisses up my back, takes his fingers out of me, it’s pretty clear what he’s doing now. I think he’s actually going to fuck me. I don’t really remember him adding lube but I can feel his hand slick on my shoulder now and he had to have at some point but I don’t actually care or know or whatever else. What I do know is he’s putting more on me now, steadying himself with one hand to use that hand again, slide it in me, get me really nice and slick and it’s obvious what’s coming next. He’s actually, holy shit, going to fuck me. I’m going to do this. Now. I’m… he’s literally getting ready to do this.

“Tell me if I need to stop, okay?”

“Okay,” I say but there’s literally no way I want him to stop, right? I’m sure it’s going to feel good, I’m sure it is. But when he pushes in, jesus, it hurts a little bit. Not a ton but like, a little. I can’t tell if he’s got an inch in me or all eight, nine, whatever he is working with there. All I can feel is this searing sensation of being split in half but also it kind of feels good? Like I don’t know if this hurts or feels good or both or neither but it’s just  _ different.  _ I seriously feel like he’s splitting my body in two and I wonder if it always feels like this or if it’s just because this is my first time.

I can tell he’s still going really slow and sliding in, so he must not have been all the way in me to begin with, but I also have no concept of how much more he has to give me, and I’m too scared to move to look in case I move and mess him up or push him in too fast or whatever else.

“Is this okay? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I am breathing and nodding. “This is good.”

“Okay. Too fast?”

“No,” I answer, but again, I still don’t know how far in he is. I can’t see how far he is, but I can feel him still going in really slowly.

“You’re really tight, Rhett,” he says and I mean, I know. I know I am because I haven’t  _ done  _ this.

“Really?”

“God, yeah, this… it’s nice… you okay, though?”

He keeps asking if I’m okay and I wonder if I seem like I’m not okay. “Do I seem like I’m not okay?” I try mumbling, but I’m not sure if it came out all the way right because he sort of chuckles.

“You’re doing good, baby, you’re really good. We’re almost there, okay? I’m almost in,” he’s telling me, and part of me wonders if maybe I asked or said the wrong thing, like if instead of “do I seem not okay?” I said something like “Are you in yet?” or maybe I just said something incoherent, I really don’t know. I just know that I don’t want this to stop.

“God, you’re good, Rhett, you feel so good. You’re doing so good. Let me know if you need me to stop,” he tells me again and I nod.

“I’m good. This is good,” I think I say, but again, I’m pretty sure my brain cells are scrambled. It’s like fire and screaming and people throwing things out of the files in my brain because I’m not even sure I could tell you what state I’m in other than “pleasure, so much pleasure,” but also a little bit of pain because holy shit, I swear I’m in two pieces now. I literally cannot still be attached. I literally feel like he has split my body in two and that’s not a bad thing necessarily but i’m screaming in my brain and I’m pretty sure I’m not screaming aloud because he doesn’t seem phased by my brain scream in the slightest.

“Oh, god, yeah, that’s… that’s good,” he says and I feel him sink down on me a little, chest against my back, and I think that’s a good sign he’s totally in me. I’m right, because then he slides out, I can feel him slide out slowly and it’s almost like a loss.

I feel like there was this thing that I sort of let my body accept and now it’s moving out of me and that feels weird and hollow and empty and I’d really like him to go back in, but he waits until he’s allllll the way out before he pushes back in, really, really slowly again.

“Oh my god,” I can feel myself say and he’s kissing my shoulder then.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s so good,” I’m mumbling, and it  _ is  _ good but it’s also a lot. It’s a lot to take in general, a lot to feel and think and accept and want and oh my god, he’s moving faster and that’s a whole new set of sensations. He’s still not going fast but I swear it takes him half the time to get back in me again as it did the first time, and when he slides out, it’s not all the way this time, but I don’t know how far it is, far enough that I feel him sink back in and I’m dying of happiness and pleasure.

“I might not last long,” he warns me. “This is too good, you’re too good, baby, you’re so good,” he’s saying and I have no idea how the fuck he can even remotely form words right now because I can’t speak. I’m mute now. This is my life right now. I think if I try, words won’t work right, so I just whimper a little bit and hope it says what I need it to, that this is good and he’s good and everything is amazing and I feel like I’ve died in a way because this is a whole different thing than the life I’ve lived up until this point. I feel like a totally different person right now, whole and happy and filled to the fucking brim with his cock. Like, there’s a part of me that just wants to attach us like this so I can feel like this all the time, feel this full and this warm and this comfortable and this… full, did I say that already? It’s  _ that  _ good.

And jesus, he’s right that he won’t last long because I’m not sure I will. He’s picking up his pace and holy shit, is that my prostate or something? All I know is he’s hitting something really perfectly, hitting it just right and there’s something that’s making me want to come. Oh my god, I want to come, holy shit, this is good this is really good. He’s pushing against it again and again and now he’s definitely not coming out of me all the way and back in, just little pulses against me in and out and oh my god I love it.

“Fuck,” I finally murmur, managing to form a few words. “This… good… yeah…” I can’t say everything I want to, can’t tell him I love him and I love this and I love everything he’s doing and I don’t want to go anywhere but right here in this bed and this moment and this feeling.

“Shit,” he grunts and I can feel him shake a little as his whole body gets a little stiff, and I know he’s wearing a condom because I don’t feel him come inside of me, but again, I have zero recollection of him even getting one. All I remember is him inside of me and on me and how good that felt and I can’t handle anything else but that feeling.

“You okay?” he asks as he lays down next to me, and he’s breathing hard and I’m breathing hard and I haven’t moved yet, and oh my god, I’m probably going to be so sore tomorrow because I already feel a little sore but I. feel. So. good. I could die.

“We should do that again.”

He laughs at that, not so much a laugh but a little chuckle. “You should give yourself a little bit of time before we try again. But yeah, that… we should definitely do it again. You hungry yet?”

I am, but I don’t want to move.


	65. Last 24

I’m laying extra still because his head is on my chest. I’m breathing, but I’m doing it really slowly so he’s not moving too much, but I can see his chest rise and fall in the same time mine is, and he’s not really moving.

I don’t know why I’m awake. If I could help it, I’d still be asleep. But I’m not. I’m watching him sleep, watching him there quietly, and I’m thinking about how much I hate that we’ve only got one more night together.

One night. One night of sex. One night of talking. One night of spending time together. We’ve obviously done more than just fuck all weekend, even though we did do a lot of that. But my plane leaves in the early afternoon and we’re rapidly approaching the last twenty-four hours of our time together.

We spent time eating. We went to a casino and we gambled, hoping no one would notice we were underage for that. Neither of us really won anything. We just went in with about twenty bucks and fucked around on cheap slots. It didn’t matter if we won. In a way, I felt like I was winning just being here.

But I’m struggling with the idea of going back without him, of us being apart. I sort of see now why he was worried about defining things, because it’s going to hurt so badly for me to leave. If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t. I’d tell my roommate to ship my shit here and I’d say “see ya” to everybody back home and curl up in whatever apartment he decides to get. I could find a job or something.

I can’t do that, though. I’d be better off finishing school, and besides, nobody even knows where I’m at. Everybody at school thinks I went home and everybody at home thinks I’m at school. Nobody knows I’m in Vegas, so I can’t really be like “hey, I moved to Vegas” because everyone would be like “wtf?” I’m trying not to cry. Tearing up would mean he could feel the vibration of it in my breath and I’d wake him up, so I can’t let myself cry. I have to be quiet, fight it.

I have to go back. I have to finish school and, well… maybe actually come out to people? I don’t know. I should probably let people know before I up and move out here. I can’t just stay. I want to, but I can’t.

But Link can cam from anywhere. He can. Maybe my best bet is to convince him to come home with me. Instead of using the money from the shows for an apartment, maybe he should use them on a plane ticket. I bet he could crash in my dorm until he finds a place to stay.

I don’t know if he’ll go for it, but I can’t really think of another choice but to ask.

If he won’t, I don’t know what I’m going to do. It’s really, really going to fucking suck saying goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of Tumblr's decision to nuke itself, it's very likely I will no longer post updates over there.
> 
> If you want to see my fic updates, please subscribe to the fics you love or to me as a user on ao3 so you can get notified when I post, or check back on the ones with update schedules so you don't miss them! For this fic, it is updated every odd-numbered day!


	66. Give me a reason

“You’re awake,” he notices almost as soon as he wakes up, turning to look at me. His hair is a little messy and he’s got a red mark on his cheek from where his skin was against mine and that’s okay, that’s so okay. He looks great, even messy. He moves up a little bit to kiss me and I don’t even really care about his morning breath and he doesn’t seem to care about mine because we’re kissing anyway.

I don’t feel sore until I start to move and then I’m like, really sore. It’s pretty obvious that I’m not quite used to bottoming but oh my god, I really want to do it again. But first I have an idea and I really want to talk to him, so even though he’s like “I’m going to go brush my teeth” I’m holding his hand and begging him to stay put for a second.

He can’t though. He has to pee, so I guess I’m going to let him go, let him get ready and  _ then  _ we can talk. Ugh. I want to talk now, want to tell him what is on my mind because I think I found a solution. I think I figured out a way we don’t have to say goodbye. I think I know what the plan is and I think I’ve fully worked it out in my head. I mean, I was thinking about it for a long time and I think maybe he’ll agree. Maybe. I think he’s as upset about me leaving as I am about leaving but I don’t really know.

“How are you feeling?” he’s asking me when he comes back and flops on the bed, and I’m okay.

“Sore, but good,” I smile at him. I really,  _ really  _ want to do that again. Like now. But not now because I need to talk to him. “I have an idea.”

“What’s your idea, Rhett?”

“What if you go home with me?”

“Like to visit?”

“Like to stay. Move back to North Carolina. You can crash in my dorm until you find a place. You’ve got some money from camming and stuff and I don’t really want to stop being with you right now… I’m sure you can fly back with me. Or even like, right after me, and I’ll just wait at the airport until you get there.” I’m saying too much all at once because he’s got this  _ look  _ on his face and I’m freezing in my tracks because holy shit, that look says no, no no no, that’s not going to fucking happen.

“I can’t.”

“Why? I mean, you’ve got the money. It’s going to be way cheaper to live there than it is here. And now you’re not tied down to your whole, like, group! You can start a new one there, or do solo things, or maybe now that I’m not a virgin we can do stuff together!” I’m trying to figure out what his hangup is but I keep sort of talking thinking I’ll hit whatever the point is that he’s getting at. “It could work really we--”

“Rhett, I can’t. Seriously.”

I still don’t understand why he can’t, but maybe I need to stop while I’m ahead and before he decides he hates me or something. “Why?”

“I’m not going back to North Carolina.”

“But  _ why?”  _ I’m asking and I keep asking but he keeps saying no and not telling me why and I’m frustrated as heck.

“Because I can’t, Rhett. I can’t go back there. Not now or ever or anything else. I’m… I put that place behind me.”

“I don’t understand. They all know you’re gay, right? Like, you came out while you were there. What’s the big deal?”

“I’m not going back to my family. They kicked me out,” he says, and I already knew that but I know it hurts him.

“You don’t have to go back to them. They don’t even have to know you’re back. I mean, were you from Raleigh or somewhere else?”

“I was in a different town. But, I mean… I was close enough. Anyway, it isn’t even about them finding out.”

“Then what is it about?” I don’t get it.

“I can’t backtrack my life. All it does is bring up a bunch of shit that… shit I can’t go into right now. I left for a  _ reason,  _ Rhett. Going back would only fuck everything up. I mean… everything. This. Seriously. I can’t do it.”

“I don’t understand,” I’m saying, and I’m freaking the fuck out because it feels like he’s not telling me something.

“I left for a reason,” he says again.

“What freakin’ reason did you leave for, then? Maybe it’s something I can fix!” I feel like I could. I feel like I’d do anything, fix anything I had to if it meant us being closer.

“I left because of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on posting and the missed post date. I was sick.
> 
> Anyway, here's the new one, and I'll see you Sunday with more.


	67. Crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of stalking

I don’t understand. I literally don’t get what he means by leaving because of me. We didn’t even  _ know  _ each other. I mean, yeah, we had class and I was a dumbass who didn’t know who he was but why the fuck would he leave when I didn’t know who he was?

“What do you mean you left because of me?”

“I mean it wasn’t just you, but it was mostly you.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything.”

“So, I told you I knew who you were, right?” He’s asking, and I nod, because I’m at a loss for words otherwise. “So I’d come to games and shit, right? Or go to parties you’d be at. I kept figuring eventually we’d run into each other, maybe connect. We didn’t, obviously.” He’s looking away from me and I want to grab him and hold him and tell him I’m sorry I didn’t notice him or see him but he’s curling into himself now and I’m confused, I’m so fucking confused.

“I’m sorry,” is all I can mutter before he’s sort of holding his hand up like he’s not done talking and wants me to chill for a second.

“Anyway, it started to get a little bit ridiculous. Like I couldn’t stay there and keep… keep being so obsessed with you. It was awkward and annoying and more than a little weird most of the time because we’d be in class and I’d sit behind you and just stare at you, right? It was stupid. But anyway, after that I came out, okay? So it wasn’t a big deal, okay, like… whatever. You didn’t know who I was and that was  _ fine.  _ But I sort of thought maybe it wasn’t you I was into, maybe it was basketball players or whatever. Maybe I had a type and I was just focused on you because I was such a fucking idiot.”

I still have no idea what he’s getting at.

“Anyway I fucked one of your teammates and I’m not going to tell you who because it was bad and awkward and dumb and nobody’s even supposed to know that he’s, you know, whatever, it’s not a big deal but it’s like… I fucked him, okay? It was the worst. I hated it. I kept wanting it to be anybody else, and yeah, part of me wanted it to be you, okay? Why the fuck do you think your roommate knows me other than the fact that I was basically being a goddamn stalker and I knew he knew you so I tried to be his friend so I could find out more about you and oh my god, oh my god I sound like a horrible person. I’m… shit, all of this sounds so wrong. You were never supposed to find out about any of this,” he says and he’s starting to cry and now I can barely make out words because he’s sobbing so hard.

“I don’t care about any of that,” I say and I’m taking him in my arms and I’m holding him and he’s shaking and I still don’t understand why he can’t come back to North Carolina with me. If he left because of me but now he’s with me then the problem’s solved, isn’t it?

But no, because I ask that, I really do, I fucking ask why he can’t come back, and he just says he can’t. It takes him a long time to compose himself enough to talk. “I burned so many fucking bridges and got messed up in so many people and so much shit and fucked guys trying to get you out of my head and talked to guys trying to get closer to you and I really, really fucked shit up. And then my family found out and now they basically hate me, so now if I go there I’ve got nobody. I mean I’ve got you, but I’ve got nobody. And besides, I don’t even want to  _ be  _ there. I mean, sure I want to be with you, but I’ve been doing fine here. I’ve been starting to feel like this is home and you can’t just drag me back there when I was that unhappy.”

“I’m not trying to drag you back.”

“Well, you can’t come here and I’m not going back there. Every memory I have there is the worst. Yeah, I’ve got you now, but North Carolina made me feel lonely and depressed, and I don’t know how you don’t even hate me for basically stalking you.”

“None of it matters, Link. You didn’t stalk me that well, obviously, because I never even fucking knew you were doing it. And even if you did, I found  _ you  _ online, not the other way around. It isn’t like you hunted me down and put your stream in front of me. I clicked it. I found you. And I fell for you, don’t you get that? None of that matters at all. But if you don’t want to be there, fine. We’ll figure it out. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“I mean, it fucking sucks because now I basically have to leave soon and we’re almost out of time, but I’m not making you go somewhere you hate. And I can’t stay, like we both said, so… so I guess we sort it out, I don’t know.”

“It sounds fucking crazy, though, right? I lose my mind over you and then I leave to get away from you and then there you fucking are?”

“Yeah. It’s fucking crazy, Link. It’s always been crazy with us. When I met you I was a straight guy. Or… I was really fucking trying to be, okay? It is what it is. It’s probably always going to be a little crazy. That’s not the point. I love you. Okay? I seriously love you. And yeah, it’s weird to say that this early in the game but… I don’t know. It’s always been crazy. Love is crazy. Why not make it crazier?”

“Yeah, I guess. So we’re both real crazy, huh?” he asks, and I nod.

“Yeah. We are.” I nudge him with my shoulder. “I’m crazy about you, you know that?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Good,” I say, and I’m thinking maybe it’s time for us to do something and get our mind off of the fact that I’m leaving. I’m not really sure what, but I think the best way to start is by tackling him to the bed, pinning his wrists, and kissing him. It’s working, and he’s smiling instead of crying. “I still can’t believe you stalked me and didn’t even have the decency to tell me,” I say, and that just makes him roll his eyes, but he kisses me again, so I guess we’re okay. We’re crazy.

But we’re okay.


	68. The End. Ish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, it's not the end.

The last day is hard to wrap my brain around. And we spent so much time talking that it feels like we’ve wasted a lot of it anyway. Well, not wasted. I want us to talk. I want us to figure this shit out and I want to know how he felt and how he feels now and I want him to know where I’m at.

But like… now it feels like everything we do is either a rush to get stuff done before it’s time to go, or it’s us trying desperately not to think about it. Or maybe it’s just me trying not to think about it. I can’t tell. I can’t think for him. All I know is anytime I start to think about it, I get a little choked up and worked up and freaked out and then I shut it out of my brain if I can until I feel okay. But then I remember again. It’s ridiculous.

Right now we’re driving. We’re just driving. I feel like if we’re driving, we don’t have to think about the parts that come next. We’ll probably eat. We’ll probably talk. We’ll probably do whatever, but right now, it’s just a drive. It’s a drive so we can forget the stuff we don’t want to talk about or think about or worry about. Tomorrow we won’t even get to be in the same city. We won’t be able to drive like this.

He’s got good taste in music. I think about it every time he turns it up. And he sings really well. And he’s beautiful, god, he’s so beautiful. It’s sunny and the light coming in through the car makes him look like a divine being. But he’s the divine being who fucked the living daylights out of me, the divine being who made me believe that I could/should/will/am totally going to be in love with him for a really freakin’ long time, and that’s so weird to even think about.

“You want to get lunch?” he’s asking, and I do. Obviously. Anything that doesn’t involve thinking about tomorrow.

“Sure. What do you want?”

“Well, I’d take you to a buffet, but I still want to fuck you tonight.”

Did I mention how much he makes me laugh?

Fuck. I’m really going to miss him.


	69. 69

He was right for us to forego the buffet. I’m a million times hungrier for him than I am for some sort of vegas smorgasboard. The reality is, I can always go someplace like that when I get home. Maybe not a casino one but you get the point. I can do that shit at home when he’s not going to fuck me, when I don’t have to worry about that whole thing. What I can’t have back home is him. I want him now, and I want to stuff my face with food so I don’t feel how much I miss him when I get home.

None of it matters. The only thing that matters is getting him back in bed. “You tired?” he asks me sometime around 11 and no. I mean, I am but I’m not. I’ll sleep on the plane tomorrow.

“Do I look tired?” I’m asking him and I’m pinning his arms to the bed, running a finger up his side to tickle him. “Hmm?” I bite at his ribcage, super gentle, and he’s curling into himself laughing because of how it feels and he’s shaking his head no.

“You don’t look tired, no,” he answers me and I’m kissing his other side, running my tongue along his skin and working my way to his nipple because even though I’m not perfect at this, I think I’ve figured out what turns him on a little bit. And this, well, it seems to be turning him on because I can feel how hard he is as my hand grazes down further. I’m focused on his eyes but his dick isn’t too difficult to find when he’s that fucking hard.

I don’t know if I’m really reading the cues right or what he wants and a big part of me just wants to fuck him but also I really love the way he looks, sounds, breathes when I’m sucking him off so I am sliding his pants down and I’m wrapping my lips around his cock and yeah, I was right. He looks and sounds amazing as he groans and I can feel him rock up into my mouth, oh fuck, yeah, this is what this whole thing is all about. I don’t mean like, our whole thing, me being with him being all about blowjobs. I mean I get the appeal of sex in general a whole hell of a lot more now that I’m having it.

He’s liking it. I can tell by the way his fingers are in my hair and I can tell by the way he is rocking to get deeper until I’m almost choking and I can tell by the way he’s moaning my name.

“Come here,” he says, and I glance up at him all “what?” but he looks back at me, too, and he’s telling me “swing your ass up here so I can suck your dick, babe.”

“What?” I don’t like stopping so we can talk right now but I will if it helps me figure out what the fuck he wants.

“You can keep sucking me off but turn your body so I can reach your dick is what I’m sayin’.”

“Okay,” I tell him, and I move. I want this. I can’t even imagine what it’ll feel like to have his cock in my mouth while his is in mine and I’m freaking out a little just anticipating it. I want that so badly. We’re a good height difference and it could work out. I feel like an uncoordinated baby deer or something trying to get my cock to his face, though, without getting too far away from his. The idea is great but my execution is sloppy.

It isn’t until I’m almost at his face that I realize I’ve still got my pants on. “Ugh, hang on a second.”

“Ow, fuck!”

I don’t know what’s happening until it’s too late and I look up and holy shit, there’s blood. Like a lot of blood. Like oh-my-god-I-kneed-my-boyfriend-in-the-face-trying-to-69 kind of blood. “Oh my god I’m so sorry. Holy shit. I’m so sorry,” I tell him. I feel so horrible over it. “I’m sorry.” I grab my shirt and I press it to his face and I’m holding it there trying to help while I sit him up and try to get him more comfortable and pull him into my lap. “It’s going to be okay, I’m so sorry, I’ve got you, I’m so sorry” is all I can seem to say.

And then he passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to nurusica, who noticed the 69th chapter was fast approaching and suggested I write in 69 to celebrate!


	70. Crime Scene

“Shit, shit, oh my god, shit.”

I have no idea what else to say. I’m shaking him and he comes to and all he can squeak out is “blood.” I’m not sure if he passed out because of the pain but right now, clearly it’s the blood that’s bothering him so I’m freaking out and rolling him over and getting wet wash clothes and thinking I’m going to somehow clean up the blood but holy crap, the hotel room looks like a murder scene happened because there’s blood everywhere. It’s on his face and my leg and all of the bedding and I don’t even know what to do.

We’ve got literal hours left and instead of, you know, actually getting to fuck each other, I’m holding a washcloth to my boyfriend’s nose and I’m panicking about what to do at this point.

“We should probably call for more sheets, right?” Otherwise we’re fucked on having sex or sleeping or anything else because his head is still woozy from the blood. I get him into a corner and I have him hold his own washcloth for a second and I swear I’m stripping sheets left and right because the sooner I get them wadded up and covered and out of the way, the sooner he’ll probably feel better.

“Wash your leg before they come so they don’t think you kicked me.”

“I did kick you.”

“Just wash your leg, Rhett, okay?”

It hits me then that yeah, I get it, and jeez, this town can probably get dark sometimes. Then again, I’d imagine any town could. So I do what he says and wash off my leg and then I’m waiting while I hold the cloth to his nose still. I get a fresh one just before they get there, discarding the old one into a pile and holding him tightly.

“Housekeeping,” they knock and I’m letting them in. I offer to make the bed but they won’t let me so I just sit there with Link and I keep my hand pressed to his face. “Are you okay?”

It’s clear what they’re implying as they eye me intensely, sort of look me up and down like they’re wondering if this kid is being beat up by some giant.

“I’m fine.”

“Do you need us to call anyone?"

“No,” he says, and with that, he pushing the washcloth aside and he’s kissing me while they’re making the bed. I could have just made it and they could’ve gone away but they didn’t and now it’s like Link feels the need to make it clear that this wasn’t anyone’s fault.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” They look at him again, and I’m wondering what he’s going to say.

“Listen, I’m going to be real with you, okay? See my boyfriend? He’s hot, isn’t he? But he’s also a tall-ass gangly guy with uncontrollable limbs. So sometimes, every once in awhile, I think it’s super fun to suggest we try something in bed and then he moves and we sort of bonk each other. He’s fine, I’m fine, we’re all fine, but if you will please excuse us, I would love to get back to fucking his brains out. But thank you for the concern.” He reaches into his wallet, hands them a tip, and then he closes the door behind him.

“You, uh… wow…” I sort of stammer because did he literally just spell out that I accidentally kicked him during sex and then they snickered like schoolgirls? Because yeah, he did that.

“Let’s try that again,” he says as soon as the door was closed. “This time, you lay down.”


	71. 69 Reprise

I still feel bad for hurting him but it doesn’t seem to have impacted him at all. He’s more coordinated than I am, putting his legs on each side of my head and lowering himself onto me. His chest is against my stomach, and mine against his stomach, and at first, it feels weird as fuck. It’s weird not facing him or being oriented the same direction or whatever. But he lowers himself into my mouth, not too much, but enough that he can feel my lips on him.

I’m using my hand to help, to make sure I don’t choke, but when he starts to suck me off, it’s overwhelming and I can’t think about focusing on that. He could push all the way into my throat and I wouldn’t care because holy mother of god, he’s driving me crazy. His lips and tongue are a lot, and I can hear him gag a little bit, feel him pull off, then feel him force it, swallowing around my cock and it’s amazing. I can’t see what he’s doing. All I can see his his cock, and I can feel his balls blocking my nose and that’s weird, but then I realize that if I stroke him, I can suck on those and it makes him literally purr around my cock. I can feel the vibrations of his breath, the way he hums around my hard-on, and I’m crawling out of my skin with how good it feels.

One real perk of him being a little shorter than me is that I have more access, so while he’s doing that, I let myself explore. I can grab at his ass, and I can spread him, slide a finger into him. It’s exciting, seeing what I can do to make him moan more, and the thing is, I was hoping we’d fuck, too, but he’s going to make me come just like this. I can tell.

I’m running my tongue along his skin, sliding it into him, running my tongue from his balls to his tight little hole and he’s groaning, he’s literally thrusting down onto my face and my neck and my body. I can feel his need, feel the warmth of his body against mine, and I want more. I want to feel him. Holy shit, I want to fuck him.

I’m spitting on him a little, using my thumb to work it into him. Now, he’s not even bobbing his head. Now, he’s just trying to compose himself. Now, he’s pulling off and pleading. “Oh, my god, Rhett, that’s… yeah, that feels so good.” I love the way he sounds when he’s that turned on.

“I want you,” I tell him, and I’m working a finger in, then two.

“Fuck me,” he said, and I back off until he is climbing off of me. “Let me ride your dick, okay?”

“Yeah,” I told him. I wasn’t so good at the dirty talk quite yet, but I was drying. “Ride my girthy dick.”

He backs off of me for a second, giggling. “Girthy? Really? I mean it is but you’re so cocky, babe.”

“Sorry,” I mutter an apology.

“It’s cute.” He bends down, kisses me, and then he’s guiding me into him.

I wish I could say I was going to last longer than a minute or two, but he rides dick like he’s made for it, and to be honest, I mean, there’s a reason it’s his job and he’s really good at it, but there’s something special about how he does this, too. His hands are all over my chest, his fingers teasing at my nipples, rolling them between his fingertips, and then he’s kissing me again. He sits up and grinds on my dick like his life depends on it. “Shit, I’m going to come,” I grunt, and he drags his ass forward and back like he’s trying to pull it out of me.

He’s stroking himself while he rides my cock and as I’m coming, he’s speeding up his pace on himself and he’s coming all over my stomach, my chest, and then it’s landing on my face.

Is it possible to be both incredibly turned on and incredibly sex-spent at once? That’s how I feel right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was a day late. See you tomorrow (hopefully).


	72. Last Time

I know it’s super selfish of me because actual families probably need to use them, but you know what a family bathroom in an airport is great for?

Getting pounded hard by your boyfriend as you lean over the counter there, feeling his hand on your shoulder and his other hand on your hip as he pushes into you again and again, fast and furious because there’s not much time left.

There are like a million family bathrooms in this airport so I only feel mildly guilty instead of excessively guilty for taking time, and we’ve only been in here for a few minutes anyway and it won’t take us that long because he’s good and he’s nailing me fast like we’re out of time because we  _ are.  _ But I’m not thinking about that part.

If I think about the goodbye in a few minutes, I have to think about how mostly I just want to throw up. If it weren’t for my flight delay, I’d already be on the plane anyway. But it did get delayed and it felt like some sort of magical gift of an extra hour, and yeah, it was an hour we planned to use very, very well.

It didn’t change my check-in time much, but it did give us enough time that Link was dragging me to the family bathroom and locking the door, kissing me and tugging my jeans down until I was basically stripping out of them and bending over the counter and feeling him push inside of me.

“You like that?” he is growling in my ear as he fucks me and I’m loving every second of it.

“Yeah,” I tell him, and I push back because I’m getting better at this. It’s getting easier to take him. I wonder if it’ll be as easy the next time or if the time without him means I’ll have to get it figured out all over again but that doesn’t matter right now when he’s in me, fucking the living daylights out of me.

“I’m going to destroy your hole, you know that? I’m tearing it up so you think of me when you’re sore on the whole flight home,” he’s saying, and it sounds a little ridiculous but it also sounds really, really hot. “You’re going to be feeling me in you all the way back to North Carolina,” he tells me with another few hard thrusts and that’s doing it for me.

“Oh, fuck,” I’m telling him, and he’s tugging my hair a little bit to move my head back so I’ll kiss him.

“You want to feel me? You want to keep feelin’ me in you when I’m gone?” he asks.

“Yes, oh my god, yeah, Link, let me feel your cock,” I tell him. I’ve watched enough porn to know that this is decent dirty talk, but he’s dirty talking more than we’ve done so far and I’m wondering if I’m even remotely holding my own in this. “Let me feel it, tear my ass up,” I tell him and clearly I’m saying the right things because I can feel him pick up the pace even more.

This lacks all of the slow, gentle nature of my first time and is more like a nature documentary -- two male giraffes trying to get it on or something, I don’t know. We’re both tall and long and he’s in me and he’s on me and he’s making sure that I get off, too, and it’s so hot. “Yeah, Link, fuck me harder,” I tell him, even though at this point, I don’t know if it’s possible for me to take much harder, let alone possible for him to give it much harder when he’s going this hard anyway.

“Would Rhett McLaughlin please report to Gate 150? Rhett McLaughlin, Gate 150,” comes over the intercom and fuck, we’re fucked, we’re out of time, shit…

“Don’t stop,” I tell him. If I miss this flight, I’ll get another. I don’t care. We’re not stopping in the middle of this. “Don’t stop.” But the fact that they’re paging me means something I don’t want to think about. I’m late for my flight. This is our goodbye. No long gate hugs or lingering kisses or goodbyes through glass walls as I get through the airport. This is the end of it, this is what we’re going out with. That’s okay with me, don’t get me wrong -- I can weasel my way through a crowd fast and my luggage is checked and everything so it’s fine. I’m fine. But goddammit, I don’t want to leave.

“I’m gonna come,” he groans. “I’m gonna….” and then he does, and I do, but I’m crying, and I can feel the wet splatter on my back that definitely isn’t his come, it’s tears, too. When I turn around, it’s clear he’s a wreck, and part of me wonders how long he’s been crying and I just didn’t notice because he was fucking me. “You have a plane to catch, don’t you?” he asks, and I can hear the quiver in his voice. I nod and tug my jeans back up, kissing him again.

“Would Rhett McLaughlin please report to Gate 150 immediately? Rhett McLaughlin, Gate 150,” repeats over the intercom.

I’m a wreck.


	73. Heart Attack

I can’t breathe. I genuinely can’t breathe as the plane takes off and I’m worried that I’m having a heart attack or something. My chest is burning. It’s not even from running to the gate or the hasty goodbye or the way Link was breathing “I love you” against my lips even though they were holding the plane for me or the way I said “I love you” back or the way he hollered after me to let him know when I landed or anything else.

It wasn’t the way that when he thought I couldn’t see him anymore, I turned to see him curled up on the ground clutching his stomach. I knew he was crying. He’d been crying. I’d been crying. Everything about this felt like my soul was being ripped from me and that’s so dumb because I mean, was I really this into him after just a few days? Yeah, yeah I fucking was.

It’s stupid. I mean, this is a guy that I know is going to immediately turn around and sleep with other people while I’m gone. I get that it’s for work and I get that I said it was okay and I genuinely do feel okay with it, but the reality is this is someone who has to sort of move past what I’m feeling in a way that I don’t think I can move past what I’m feeling. That doesn’t make sense. But it doesn’t have to.

Right now I can’t think. My ears are burning and I’m choking on my tears and the person next to me is looking at me like I’m insane because seriously, I’m basically a giant and I’m completely losing my shit and I should be more composed than this. But I’m not.

The flight feels too long. Once I’m not with him, I just want to be home in my bed making up for sleep I missed because we were fucking, which was a way better use of our time anyway, but to be honest, now he’s gone and I just want to sleep. I want to cry. I want to sleep. I want to turn the damn plane around and be where he is again.

But I can’t do that.

Instead, I just keep crying and wiping my nose on my shirt sleeve because I was too dumb to bring tissues.

I’m a big baby.

I miss my boyfriend.

Everything about this sucks.

By the second half of the flight, I’ve resigned myself to some very important thoughts. First of all, I had to leave. I’m mad that I did, but I did. Second of all, I had to leave because it’s the only way to know if what Link and I have is real.

Maybe that sounds dumb but hear me out: While I was in Vegas, we existed in a bubble. In that bubble, it was only us and sex and food and sleep and nothing else.

But there’s a whole world outside of that bubble. There’s my school and his work and there’s sex with other people that plays into that. And there’s responsibilities and rent to pay and bills to pay and things to get done that don’t involve being tangled up in sheets all the time.

If we can survive being apart after this, then maybe there’s a chance we can also eventually exist outside of the bubble we built for ourselves.

And I’m not saying the bubble is a bad thing.

I’m just saying the bubble can’t last forever so either we have to figure out ways to live outside of the bubble, or we won’t ever work out in the long haul.

Which means I have to go home. Even though obviously I’m already going home and that was decided. It’s just… now I’m deciding, halfway through this flight, that instead of me going home being the worst thing that has ever happened to me, it might just be the key to us actually lasting together.

Maybe to grow together we’ll have to grow ourselves apart first. Not that we aren’t together. We are. We’re just not… together in the way I want us to be.

And that’s okay.

  
Except if it  _ is  _ okay, why am I still crying? I’m not really sure. I’m going to keep convincing myself, though, that this is the right thing, that we made the best choice. I wish it didn’t hurt so badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we're back. Thanks for the awesome well-wishes for a good holiday. I'm feeling refreshed and ready to give y'all some more of this story. Don't forget the updated posting schedule of Monday, Wednesday, Friday on this one! I hope a little more consistency instead of that every-other-day format makes it easier to find.


	74. The Let Down

The second I landed, before bags or anything, I dialed the phone and tried to reach Link.

“Hello?” His voice sounded groggy or off or something.

“Did I wake you up?"

“No,” he says, and then he sniffles and I realize I’ve woken him up from something else, not from sleep but from sadness. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. Anyway, I just landed.”

“Okay,” he says. His voice sounds off and I wonder if he’s okay.

“Are you okay?”

“I will be. I’m sorry. I’m… I’m not tryin’ to be weird or quiet or anything else,” he says, but then he starts crying and it’s hard to hear him. “I miss you and I keep thinking I might take a nap or something but then I’m sad all over again and I wasn’t going to tell you any of this because I know you and I know you’ll just feel guilty that I said it and that you’re not here and I didn’t want any of that and--”

“Link, okay, breathe. Breathe. It’s okay,” I try to calm him down, but I can feel tears streaming down my face anyway and I’m not sure how I have any left to cry anyway.

“You still have to drive home?”

“Yeah, it’s not too far, though,” I tell him.

“Okay. I think I might actually look at an apartment this afternoon. I wish you could go with me.” He sniffles again and I’m wishing I could go, too. I hate that I can’t.

“Tell me all about it later? Send me pics?” I encourage, and I don’t hear anything in response. “Link?”

“Oh. Sorry. I forgot you can’t hear me nod through the phone. I was nodding.”

I can’t resist laughing at that, and then he laughs, and then it feels like things might be okay because at least for a second, we’re not crying anymore. “Hey, I’m going to get out of here and drive now, okay? Text me later.”

“I will,” he says, and just before I hang up he says “Hey Rhett?”

“Yeah?”

“I meant it, you know? When I told you I love you.”

“I meant it, too. Later, Link.”

“Later.”


	75. Safe Secrets

I don’t even consider the fact that my face is puffy from crying until I walk into the dorm and Gregg looks at me. “Holy shit, what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your face, man. You have hives or somethin’?” he asks me.

“No, I, uh…”

“Well you look like shit.”

“Thanks,” I tell him. “I feel like shit.”

“Your mom called this weekend. Like she called me because she couldn’t get ahold of you. Just so you know.” Shit. Shit shit shit. I’d told Gregg I was at my mom’s house and I’d told my mom I was here and… now I’m royally fucked.

“So it took me a couple seconds to catch on but don’t worry, I covered for you. I said you had some study group stuff and we kept crossing paths all weekend but I’d tell you to call when you could, that you were in over your head with some school stuff.”

“Thanks,” I told him. “I owe you.” I laid down on my bed, figuring I’d unpack later.

“Hey, Rhett?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh… where were you, anyway? You okay?” He’s looking at me and I’m realizing that I don’t have a good lie. I didn’t want to tell anyone in case it blew up, but it didn’t. It went really well. It occurs to me that I don’t have a reason not to say it.

“You know, um… you know that guy from class? The one I was talking to?”

“Chuck?” he asks, and it hits me that it’s weird I’m saying this without being able to recall the name Gregg called him because I only ever really called him Link.

“Yeah. I was just checking to see if you remembered.” I said. “Anyway… you know how you saw us talking the other day?”

“Yeah.” He sits down in his chair and he’s eyeing me skeptically.

“And you know how, uh… you know I’m... uh... gay, right?” We’ve been over this. It seems a little ridiculous to re-hash this. “And, uh… anyway, he said that he wasn’t super secretive that he was, either, so I’m sure you probably already know he is…” I keep sort of stalling and sort of giving little bits of information hoping he’ll fill in the blanks, but he keeps looking at me like I’m supposed to tell him.

“Yeah,” he says, and it’s even more obvious he isn’t letting me hope he’ll sort it out.

“Anyway I went to visit him. Or, uh… to meet him, I guess. I didn’t really know him when he lived here, but we met online after he left and, uh… anyway I went to go see him. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it until, you know… until I knew what was happening, I guess.”

“So do you know what’s happening then?”

“Yeah, I do,” I told him. “And, uh, it’s good things happening. I’m just not really ready to tell my mom or anyone else, you know, about the whole… me actually being into guys thing. I don’t think she’d really understand that easily.”

“Okay. Stays between us, man. But you had fun?”

“Yeah?”

“Do I want to know if you used all the shit I gave you trouble for packing?” he asked. My face turned bright red, and that was answer enough. “Okay, well. Glad y’all had fun.”


	76. Personal Shopping

We were only together a few days. That’s why it makes no sense to me that I was missing him so hard. Like, I’m still missing him hard but it’s constant. I feel like I can’t think or eat or sleep or breathe without thinking about him. I’ve got a stupid idea. I have a really really fucking stupid idea and I need someone to talk me out of it but I can’t be like “Hey, Gregg, I know I just now finally told you the whole story but can you talk me out of this hella gay thing I’m about to do?” Because that’s not fair.

But here’s the thing.

I’m shopping for something, you know? Like I bought lube or whatever. Cool. Great. I feel like such a big boy now (I’m rolling my eyes at myself over it). And Link gave me a douche and all that and it’s so freakin’ great to sort of learn what I’m doing and all that.

But here’s the thing. I don’t have a toy, okay? So I thought “this is simple, I’ll buy a toy.” And that would be simple but there are like… dildos and prostate massagers and wands and all kinds of shit and I don’t have a clue what to get but none of that is the point because I found something else.

I found a kit where you can literally clone a dick. And there’s a huge part of me that wants to be like “Hey, Link, by the way when you have free time can you make me a copy of your dick for when you’re not around?” And that would be fine and he’d probably be down. Like. That’s fine. Cool.

Except here’s the thing.

I can’t stop thinking about making him one of mine. Is that weird? That I want to mail him some sort of copy of my dick? Like I should warn him I’m doing that, right? But part of me wants to be like “SURPRISE! Now you can have it whenever you want it,” right? But like… that’s a horrible idea, isn’t it? Should I do it? Oh my god, I might do it.

I honestly think I might send him a clone of my entire dick. This might be my worst idea on the planet. It might be my best one. I don’t fucking know. I can’t tell him, can I? I wonder if it’s that hard to do. Like... 

Jeez. This is dumb. This is really dumb. I’m not doing it. Seriously. Like, I’ll close the browser tab, I won’t even get my own toys so I won’t be tempted, whatever. I’m just going to close it and forget I ever saw that in the first place because holy shit, this is a stupid idea. I’m not doing it.


	77. Soft Limits

Every time he calls it sort of feels so weird. Like we were in person. We were in one fucking place and now we’re not and I hate that but also holy crap, we were in one place! I’m talking to a person I actually know and have touched and, gosh, have tasted, and all that stuff. And the fact that when I talk to him, I’m suddenly really aware of all of that all over again is a LOT. Okay? It’s a lot.

But this is different. It’s him asking me if I’m alone right now, if Gregg is in the room, and it’s him telling me if he is, to get someplace where he’s not so we can be alone for a few minutes. Thankfully, I’m already alone. Gregg is at a study session and by study session I mean he and some buddies are “studying” with a group of girls to try to get with them.

We have time. We have as much time as Link wants or needs alone with me. Gregg will be out late, and if he scores, he might not be back at all tonight.

“I’m alone,” I tell him, and he’s happy about it, clearly.

“Good. Video chat with me?”

It’s been a while since we’ve done this. The last time we did  _ this  _ it was before he was like… actually mine. I mean not in a weird “he’s mine” kind of way but before I could call him my boyfriend. And when I turn on the camera he’s already half stripped and half hard and super ready for it and I’m like… practically drooling all over myself looking at him.

“Jeez, you’re hot,” I mumble and he smiles wide. I swear he’s been told that a million times by a million people.

“I already told everybody my first show back is tomorrow. I mean, I know I already texted you that but anyway… yeah… so I thought maybe I wanted to do this with you first, you know, before I go back on cam.” There’s a hesitation in his voice and I wonder if he’s second guessing it. I don’t know second-guessing  _ what,  _ if it’s doing this with me or if it’s camming or both or neither or whatever, but it’s something.

“Can I watch it?”

I don’t know why I’m asking. It seems silly to ask. It does. I mean, I’ve always watched before, and it feels like I should get to now.

“You have to make me a promise,” he says earnestly and I feel like it’s very important. He leans forward and looks at me and he’s serious. “You can’t tip. Please. Please don’t tip because it’s weird for you to tip me when I’m your boyfriend. Okay? You can watch and you can chat and stuff but please don’t tip.”

“Okay. I won’t tip.” I’d rather watch and not tip than I would to not watch at all.

“Then yeah. You can watch it.” I’m happy about that, happy about the idea that I still get to watch. But right now, I get to watch and it’s all just for me.

“I’m excited. Mmm, I like that it’s just us right now, though.” I figure that’s a nice enough thought that he should know, too.

“Do you want me to stop booking private shows?”

“What do you mean?” I ask. I hadn’t thought about it. To be honest, I’d sort of tried to forget that any of this was anything he did.

“I mean I get that you’re cool with me camming, but do you want me to like… not do private shows or videos or whatever? I sort of need to know before I go live tomorrow, if I’m going to change my tip menu or something.”

“I… um. I mean, I guess it would be sort of nice, but you have the apartment you’re getting, right?” He’d been texting me pictures of the one he wants all day long, and I know it isn’t cheap. “I don’t want to make it so you can’t afford it just because I’m being selfish.”

“Nah, it’s… it’s okay. I um… I stopped smoking pot, you know? That’ll help a lot. I mostly just did it because the other guys I lived with, uh… I don’t know. It was stupid.” I didn’t mind that he did it, but there’s a part of me that’s relieved he wasn’t anymore. Call me old-fashioned or whatever but we were always taught that it was like, something that really fucked you up, and maybe it is and maybe it isn’t but I’m glad that’s not what he’s doing now. “Anyway. It’ll save me some money I was spending on stupid shit.”

I nodded. “I mean, if you can afford it without doing it, I’d say go for it. Pull it off of your services you offer. You can always add it back if you need it later.”

“Yeah, that’s, uh… that’s true.” I can’t read him, can’t really figure out what he wants me to say there.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I just sort of figured you’d be like ‘you’re mine, I don’t want anyone to have this’ and you didn’t, and that’s okay, like… it’s totally okay, don’t get me wrong…” He trails off and it feels like he feels stupid for bringing it up and he shouldn’t.

“Hey Link? I wanted to. Okay? I wanted to be like ‘please don’t do any more private shows.’ But it’s not really fair for me to act like that, is it? Like it’s your job and I get it. But I probably wouldn’t look at you in any other job and be like ‘sorry, you can’t do this part of your job because I’m a possessive shithead who doesn’t want you to,’ so I didn’t think I should do that here. I want you to know that you still have choices, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be like ‘you’re mine and I don’t want anyone else to see you.’ In fairness, if I thought it was an option and I didn’t feel like a jerk for asking, I’d probably tell you to… you know what? Nevermind.” I didn’t want to say it.

“You’d tell me to what?”

“It’s not important. I mean, I respect you and your choices to do anything you want to, okay? I support that.” I looked away.

“You’d ask me to quit camming?”

I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want to tell him I wanted him to quit.

“I want you to be able to get the apartment you want. And camming is a really good way to do it.”

“Thanks, Rhett,” he said.

“For what?”

“For being supportive. Even if I know you don’t like the idea of it.” It was weird because in a way, I think he actually wanted me to get really possessive with him and be like… quit everything, you’re mine only. But I think he also didn’t realize that me doing that? It could open a whole hell of a lot of issues for him. This felt reasonable. This felt like compromise. I’d have given anything to never let another soul look at his body like that again. I’d seen the comments people left. Hell, I had left some of the comments people leave. I was the creepy as fuck fan that would tell him I wanted to see his hole. Like… once I got comfortable enough to do that. But for everyone who is saying it, there are probably ten dudes thinking it. I didn’t like that. It was easier for me not to think about it and to just focus on him and see him.

“I’m here for you,” I told him. And I was. Even if he kept doing private shows and stuff.

“I’m taking the private shows and videos off of my tips for now. Okay? I can’t really quit camming… but I’d do it in a heartbeat if I thought there was something else I could do and make this kind of money.” I nodded. I didn’t know what to say.

“Thanks,” I finally said. He was doing something big, eliminating a good chunk of his income. Part of me wanted to say “how about you age-screen it?” and tell him to do private shows for the old dudes who could be his grandfather, but not for anyone our age. I mean, him having a sugar daddy didn’t sound so bad if it helped him out a little. But it was easier to make a blanket statement, to not do it at all. And that was okay, too.

“Um… I really miss you,” he said. And then he glanced down at his shorts. And it was pretty clear that we could have a phone call anytime, could talk anytime, but we only had while Gregg was gone to actually get off together. He didn’t have to say anything more.

I wanted it, too.

“I miss you. You want to, uh… wanna get off?” I asked him. It felt like the dumbest thing to say because obviously he did and I did and everything else.

I wasn’t quite hard when I slid my shorts down and I stood up and he was all “Jeez, Rhett, you’re so thick.” I totally blushed at that.

But now I’m hard, and now I’m ready and now I want to get off with him. Like. I want him now. I know I can’t actually have the real him and now my mind is back on that stupid dick cloning kit. At least if I had that, then I could be like “watch me as I fuck myself with your dick” but maybe that’s a weird thought anyway. Why would he want to see that? I don’t know. Maybe I was thinking it because I’d kind of like to see that, to see him using my dick as a toy on his end of the screen. I’d love to hear him say it’s good and I’d love for him to remember what I feel like in him. I feel like if he does, he won’t feel like he has to get it from anyone else and

...holy shit. I’m realizing that’s a little bit what this is about. He still has to fuck other dudes on camera for money. Oh my god. I had put it so far out of my mind that I was having trouble with it now. But now it’s hitting me. There is a part of me that thinks if he has my dick there, he won’t use other guys and that’s literally. Not. how. That. works. Because my dick will just be a toy. It won’t be a person that can help him grow his business. Oh my god. I can’t tell him that other guys can’t fuck him on camera, can I? That’s totally unfair of me, right?

“Rhett?” He asks, and I realize I’m frozen. Not my screen, not the feed, me as a person is frozen. I’m not saying anything or moving or anything. The sudden realization has me lost and a little stressed.

“Yeah,” I say, shaking my head like I’m a goddamn etch-a-sketch, trying to clear the thought from my memory.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I tell him. I’m so not fine. I’m very, very much not fine.

“Okay. So uh… you want to do this, then?” he asks. I nod.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” I’m not ready. I’m still thinking about other guys fucking him and how much I don’t like it.

I can’t tell him that.

I’m already asking so much of him.

“God, Rhett, I wish I could feel you inside of me.” It’s those words that do it for me, the one where he tells me again “I wish you were here right now so I could ride your cock…” that has me making up my mind. I’m buying that dick cloning kit. It may not stop him from fucking other guys for work, but it might make him feel good, and I’m willing to do it for that reason, at least.


	78. Cloning

Cloning a dick is hard. Or not quite hard enough.

I mean genuinely, I wished I’d gotten viagra or something because nobody tells you that you have to stay hard for the entire damn time the thing is setting around your dick. Like, you have to mix this gel or whatever and pour it in a mold thing, and then you have to shove your dick into it. That’s all fine and dandy but the idea of doing that, of sticking it in before the 2 minutes is up and I can’t get it in there anymore is scary. What if I can’t keep it up? They tell you to use a cock ring or whatever and why didn’t they SAY that on the damn website? I could have bought the cock ring while I was on there, dang it!

Not that this wasn’t already expensive as fuck, but like… now that I’m not tipping I probably could have afforded the cock ring. But I didn’t know to get it and it’s too late. The water is ready, the mix is ready and I am shoving my dick into this thing like nobody’s business. If I lose my erection at all during this, it won’t work. That’s the thing they don’t tell you. So I do what I have to do and I turn on Link’s video, the first one he ever sent me, when he apparently knew who I was but I didn’t know that yet and jeez, we’ve come a long way since that, haven’t we? I’m sort of weirdly proud of us. But also, it does the job, getting me hard and hot and I realize I can’t move with this thing on me or it’ll like, fuck everything up. I can’t come. I can’t anything. I’m a little worried that as it stands, I’m messing it up by going from hard to like, rock hard oh my god I might die kind of hard just at the sounds Link makes on screen. Just as the time is almost up and I’m sure that it’s going to turn out fine, though, Gregg walks in.

He walks in when I’ve got my hand on a tube on my dick and I’m watching his old college buddy, who happens to be my roommate, ride his own fingers. And I’m doing it without headphones because it’s hard enough to keep this on and I didn’t expect him to come back this quickly.

“Um. Okay. I’m going to uh,” he holds a hand up next to his face and I scramble to pause the video and I pray my entire lack of erection right now doesn’t somehow fuck things up but the time was almost up anyway so maybe we’ll be in the clear? I don’t know. “I’m going to grab my book and go, then.”

I still haven’t said anything. What do I say to a scene like this? Sorry, man, just making a dick copy to send to Vegas?

“Do I um… do I want to know?” he asked.

“Probably not,” I said.

“Okay, uh… yeah… um… have fun,” he said. He takes a step out of the room and then he takes a backward step in and closes the door. “Okay so you don’t have to tell me but now I’m kind of curious. What the  _ actual  _ fuck are you doing right now?”

“I… um. I’m…” I’m not really sure how to explain. “I’m making a copy of my dick? Like… in dildo form?”

“You’re… um. For Chuck?” It will never stop being weird that he calls him that.

“Yeah. I mean, it seemed like a cool, sort of weird gift? I don’t know. Maybe it’s dumb. Maybe I’ll hide it,” I said.

“No, I mean, you should send it. He’ll probably love it.”

“Yeah, I mean, maybe.” I shrug. I realize that a still of Link is still on the computer and it doesn’t occur to me that Gregg can’t see it from where he’s standing. “I have to stay hard while it’s in there or it won’t come out right.”

“Oh. Okay, well… good luck. Later.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been more mortified in my life.


	79. Beer

I don't know how to recover from Gregg walking in. Or how to try to thank him for being so chill about everything. I bought him beer but that hardly seems like enough.

What I do realize is I've been a shitty friend to him lately. I've been dodging him for months, ever since I met Link, because I didn't really know how to explain things to him.

He doesn't seem mad about it, but I still feel like a total asshole. I feel like we used to be really chill and talk all the time and now we don't. There's this disconnect in our friendship and I'm frustrated. I guess I'm annoyed that life is like this lately and it's because of me. Somehow I wonder if Link would have been a better friend to him, to everybody, than I've been. I feel like a failure.

Anyway, I have beer. But maybe next time I see Gregg I can convince him to talk. I honestly hope he doesn't think it is like, super weird or anything, me asking him to chill. Now that he knows I'm gay, now that I know, is it going to come off like I'm asking him for a date or something? I'm not sure. It's weird. I'm frustrated.

He hasn't done anything wrong. Maybe this would be easier if he was a total jerk who didn't have my back, but he's been cool. I think I'm overthinking our friendship because I fucked it up.

Nobody should ever be my friend. But damn. Everyone deserves a friend like Gregg. And I’ve royally fucked that up so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter today, y'all. I totally injured the fuck out of myself on a patch of ice and this is about all I had for it, BUT I'm telling you now that the other two chapters this week are longer to make up for it. See you Wednesday.


	80. Ally

“Hey,” Gregg says when he walks in. He’s learned to knock and I feel bad that he has to, but it’s really cool he does. “You good?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I uh… I put all the dildos and lube and rainbow flags away,” I joked.

“Oh. That doesn’t bother me if, uh… if you need it to be out or--”

“Gregg, I’m fucking with you,” I tell him, and it occurs to me again that we don’t exactly have the sort of relationship lately where that would be immediately clear. I’m sure he’s trying but I’m not trying and I suck. “You busy tonight?” I ask him, and he shakes his head no.

“Nope. What’s up, man?” He sits on the couch next to me and I feel like this is finally my chance to not be shitty in general.

“Can we, um… can we hang out?” I ask him. “I mean, we don’t have to hang out here if it’s weird, or we don’t have to go anywhere if that seems like--” I start rambling. “I swear I’m not hitting on you or something.” I don’t even know why I said that shit. Like, obviously I’m not. I guess I don’t know how it comes off to him because I haven’t talked to him much at all since I started keeping secrets from him, and since one of those secrets was me being gay, I’m a little worried.

“Rhett, chill the fuck out, man. I know you’re not hitting on me. We can hang out, you know? It’s okay for us to hang out. That sounds fun. You want to stay here and chill with movies or you want to go to a bar or something? Your pick, man.” He’s surprisingly chill and that makes me feel a lot fucking better about the whole thing. I still feel badly, but he’s really, really good at being a roommate and a friend.

“Um, is here okay?” I don’t really want to go to a bar. Honestly it would be fine, but I’m just awkward and when we’d go to bars before, it always felt like there was pressure to pick up girls or something. I know he’d be down for me not doing that, and at this point I wouldn’t even be surprised if Gregg wasn’t like “oh, if you feel more comfortable at a gay bar…” or whatever, but I’m not talking through any of that shit. I’m just wanting to hang out and talk.

“Yeah, that works. Want me to go grab some beers or something?” he asks me and I shake my head.

“Nah, man. I have some. I got these for, uh… for you? I guess? Cause things have been so weird. I mean, you haven’t been weird. I’ve, uh. I’ve been weird. And you’ve had my back like, with my mom and stuff, so… here.” I grab the beers I bought and pass them to him. He pulls two off and hands one to me because of course he does. He’s a class act.

“Thanks,” I say and I settle in next to him on the couch.

“So what’s up, man?” he asks me. I don’t even know where to begin. It’s been too long since I was a good friend.

“I don’t know. What’s up with you?” I ask. “It feels like we don’t talk much anymore.” That seems like the wrong thing to say and I wish I could take it back. We do talk. We just don’t talk big talk anymore.

“I’ve got classes and shit, buddy, nothing cool. It’s you that has all the exciting shit going on. Trip to… shit, where did you even go? Did you tell me? I just know why you went, not where, right?”

“I was in Vegas,” I told him.

“Jesus, Rhett. You go to Vegas, you’ve got a boyfriend, you’re-- you’re cloning your dick for him and shit, you’ve got the exciting stuff.” He smacks my chest with the back of his hand and takes a big glug of his beer. “Talk to me. Tell me about him. I mean I know him but clearly I don’t know him like you do. What’s he like? How’s he been?” he asks. “Jeez, I didn’t realize he went all the way out to Vegas. That’s a big move. He get some kind of sweet engineering intern gig out there?”

“Nah, he’s…” it occurs to me that Gregg probably doesn’t know what he does for work. I don’t know what to tell him. “He’s got some freelancing thing, you know? Working some odd stuff. It’s cool. He’s happy, I think. He just got a new apartment.” He had just gotten his apartment, too. He was moving in that day and texting me updates constantly. Even as I was telling Gregg, he was sending me pictures of the candle and a paper towel holder he got from someone from his stream, an amazon wishlist gift or something. He was really excited about it.

“Wow, new place, new job, new life out in Vegas. So what’s the deal there? He’s got a new apartment, so I guess he’s not coming back here? You going there, then?”

“I mean, right now I have to finish school, so I guess not,” I tell him. We hadn’t gotten that far. “I want to visit him again, too, but that’s expensive. We’ll see when I can afford to get out there.”

“Yeah. That’s… that’s hard, man. I’m just really happy for you, you know? I don’t know if I told you that. I know I keep coming in at weird times and stuff, and… jeez, I’ll try to get better about knocking, yeah? But I, um… I’m proud of you, Rhett. You seem really, really happy. You’re doing well.”

I want to cry.

That’s genuinely the nicest, most supportive, most accepting thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Gregg doesn’t hate me. He genuinely seems happy, and I don’t know why I was so scared.


	81. Cumshow

Watching Link’s first show back, after more delays and technical difficulties that were actually just us camming with each other, is weird as hell. I don’t know how to handle it. Like, at first he’s just sitting there right? Totally clothed and all of that, but people are saying stuff to him, telling him to take off his clothes, tipping to see his ass or see a dick flash and I’m honestly wanting to cover up the screen. I want to see him, but I don’t like knowing other people are watching, too.

It’s fine. I told him this was fine. And it is fine. I sort of wish my dick was there already instead of just in the mail because honestly, I wish there was some part of him that knew it was me, like… that he had me there, and that I support him but also that I want him to remember I’m here. Not that I think he’s forgotten. I know he hasn’t. And while he’s streaming, he keeps picking up his phone between things he says or does. He’s acting like he’s changing music or whatever, but he’s texting me. And I’m texting him back.

And then I decide it would be fun to play a little game, and I don’t know if he’s down, but I have a really good feeling he will be. So I text him. “Guess what?” I text.

 

**_What?_ **

**Check this out.**

 

I send him a picture of my dick.

 

**I’m watching this camshow online and the guy on it is so fucking hot.**

**_Oh really?_ **

 

I physically see him bite his lip over that text. Then he arches an eyebrow and I start to worry that he’s taken it wrong, that he might think I’m watching some other dude’s stream.

 

**_Tell me about him. Do you think I’d think he’s hot?_ **

 

Shit, now more of me worries he’s gotten the wrong idea. I can’t take it back, though. I have to play along.

 

**I don’t know. Do you like tall guys?**

 

I’m taller, but he’s tall in his own right. He definitely wouldn’t count as a short guy.

 

**_God, I love tall guys. Especially if they’re taller than me. Tall guys get me so hot. I swear just thinking about a really tall dude makes me want to cream myself right here. Keep talking._ **

**He’s not taller than you. About your height. Dark hair, you like dark hair? Blue eyes?**

**_I don’t dislike dark hair and blue eyes but I prefer lighter hair, green eyes. I guess I can’t be too picky there if he’s tall, though._ **

**He’s still got clothes on. I bet he’d look hotter if he took them off. Should I tip him? ;) ;) ;)**

 

Now I’m really fucking with him since I can’t tip Link at all.

 

**_NO! No tipping. :p_ **

 

I don’t reply for a second, but then he licks his lips and looks at the screen, starts to focus on his chat again. He’s answering a few of their questions and thanking people for tips and then he’s taking his shirt off. Fuck.

 

**God, now he’s shirtless, Link. He looks so hot like that. I swear I’d lick every inch of him if I was there. I bet he’d let me bite his nipples, what do you think?**

**_Oh my god._ **

**I can’t wait until he gets enough tips to fuck himself on camera**

**_I swear to god if you make me come before I reach my tip goal…_ **

**You’ll what?**

 

I text him that, and then I text him a short video, me stroking myself, laptop in the background so he can see himself there, see how hot he makes me.

 

**Check it out. I can put my dick on his face when I stroke it to his camshow. Think he’d let me do that irl?**

**_Shit, Rhett. I need to get off so badly._ **

**If you need me to tip, just say the word, baby.**

**_No tipping. But I swear if they don’t tip me faster I’m cancelling this stream and jerking off instead._ **

 

I can see the bulge forming in his shorts and I can see how thankful he is when the tips spill over to let him take his shorts off. He’s not usually hard when he takes his shorts off, usually setting getting hard as another tip goal, but this time he’s rock hard.

 

**_This is all your fault_ **

 

That’s his text, and he’s got his hand on his dick, and I can see him spit on it, rubbing himself and looking up at the screen. “Guys, I’m telling you, I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight but I’m extra horny. What do you say we skip getting hard and make the tip goal go straight to a cumshow tonight?”

Tips start flying in.

But none of that matters because he texts me again.

 

**_Can I please have another video like that? This time with your face, too? I want to see how hot you look when you come. You always look really good like that._ **

 

I can’t ever say no to that.


	82. Backtracking

**_Oh my god._ **

 

**Omg what**

 

I don’t know how to take the Oh my god. Text Link sends. How do you even take something with no context like that?

 

**_Oh my god. Is this what I think it is?_ **

 

I’m starting to get the picture that maybe he got my gift. And then an actual picture loads of him with it. In his mouth. And I think I might die for half a second because holy shit. It’s as close as I can get to the image of him actually having his mouth on my dick and it’s a little too much because why isn’t he closer so he can actually suck me off?

 

**I hope you like it.**

 

**_I love it. Are you kidding? It’s so perfect. I mean it’s not as good as the real thing but I’ll make it work._ **

 

**So you think you’ll get some use out of it?**

 

**_Oh my god yes. It’s my new favorite. Any other toy I own can go fuck itself because this is the best one ever. Thank you thank you thank you._ **

 

I want to cry tears of joy that he actually likes it. I want to ask him to show me how much he likes it. I want him to make me one of his own and then I worry that’s a weird thing to ask.

 

**_This is so sexy, Rhett. Oh my god._ **

 

**I thought maybe it would remind you of me. And maybe it would be something you could use. Or use in your shows. Or whatever. Remind you that even though you’ve got other guys there, I’m still here.**

 

**_Wait, what?_ **

 

Oh shit. That was seriously not an okay thing for me to say. I’m realizing how unfair it was now. I texted it without thinking first, without considering the fact that he really does have to still do this for work and everything. I’m so shitty. Oh my god.

 

**Nvm. I just meant that like, this could be fun for you to use when you want to.**

 

**_Is this about me camming?_ **

 

**That’s not why I sent it**

**I wanted you to use it**

**And now I sort of fucked it up.**

 

He’s not replying. I don’t know what to do. He’s not responding to my text. He read it and he didn’t say anything and now I’m wondering how badly I fucked up.

But then a picture starts to load and before I can actually see it, my phone rings.

God, I hate everything.


	83. Jealous Streak

“I’m sorry,” I answer the phone.

“For what?” Shit shit shit it’s my mom, it’s not Link. It’s my mom.

“Oh, sorry. Wrong call. Haha. I forgot to send notes to somebody for class. It’s no big deal.” I’m lying through my teeth and I wonder how much longer I can keep this going.

“Did Gregg tell you I called?” She seems worried, especially about the fact that I haven’t been in touch. Mostly I’m afraid if I am, I’ll slip up and say something I shouldn’t.

“Yeah, uh. Yeah. He told me you called. Sorry, I’ve been really busy with my classes and everything.”

“Okay. I just wanted to double-check and see if you were okay. You’ve been pretty quiet lately. I know you’re busy with school but I don’t think it would kill you to check in once in a while.”

“You’re right, mom. I’m sorry.” I feel bad. I want to tell her more or properly apologize or be like “listen, mom, here’s what’s new with school,” throw her a bone, anything. Instead, I can hear my phone beeping with another call. “Listen, I’ll call you back tomorrow. I swear. I’m just, uh… my study partner needs those notes and he’s calling. I have a study group to get to. I’ll… I’ll call you.”

“Love you, Rhett.”

“Love you.”

I switch over to the other call and this time, it  _ is  _ Link.

“You’re saying something like that and then ignoring me?” he asks.

“I didn’t ignore you!” I said. “I sent you a message back.”

“And then I replied. And you didn’t. You didn’t even say anything about my picture.” He seems sad and frustrated and everything else. I don’t know. I feel like I really hurt him this time.

“My mom called. I didn’t even see the picture. Hold on.” I pull the phone from my ear and look at the screen. There he is, legs spread, my DIY cock inside of him, nevermind that the base is a little bit messed up because I couldn’t fit it quite right in there the whole time, but it’s like… it’s everything I wanted from giving him a gift like this.

“Holy crap, Link,” I tell him. “You look so good.”

“Thanks,” he still sounds a little bit off. “Listen, Rhett. I love you. More than anything else I love you. And this is really great. Like I said, it’s not as good as you, but it feels good. It feels a lot like you.”

“I didn’t mean that, uh… I wasn’t trying to say I didn’t want you doing the things you’re doing because I sent you that. Or in general. They were unrelated, I’m sorry.”

“I know,” I hear him gasp a little and I realize holy fuck. When he says it feels like me, he’s saying it because he’s  _ currently  _ using it, not because he tried it out and it felt good. “I want you to know that no matter what, this is the dick I want for the long haul. Or um, not necessarily the DIY one but like… yours. The real one. This is a good stand--” he gasps again “--in for yours.”

“You’re fucking yourself right now?” I ask. I just want to be sure that’s what’s happening.

“You send me your cock and expect I’m not going to test it out immediately?” he chokes out. “God it feels so good. I want you to hear how good it feels.” I can hear him breathing heavily now. He’s not mad at me. I didn’t fuck up. He just… seems otherwise occupied. “I couldn’t text you and do this,” he says. “You’re who I want. You’re the one I want. Everything else is work.”

“I know,” I tell him. Are we seriously talking about this when he’s fucking himself?

“It’s a little bit hot that you’re jealous of me doing that with other guys,” he says. “Like I don’t want you to be sad or hurt but the fact that you’re jealous and you want it to be you all the time, that you sent me something to remind me how fucking good your dick is, that’s hot.”

“I’m glad.” I was second-guessing it. I guess I second-guess everything, though.

“Tell me about it, Rhett,” he says. “Tell me how jealous you are.” Now it’s a game for him. Now it’s something he wants to use to get off.

“I’m so fucking jealous, Link. I think about someone else inside of you and I want to yank them off of you and fuck you into the mattress,” I tell him. I don’t know that I’d ever actually do that. I’d probably just sort of gently tell him that I miss him and wish it was me. But you know, we’re playing, right?

“Yeah? You’d fuck me really hard?” he asks.

“I’d fuck you so hard. I’d make sure you knew it was my dick that you need most.” I’m saying things I never anticipated saying, things I’d probably never actually say, and I’m getting sort of hard thinking about it and listening to him and considering that kind of game. Is this really what I’m starting to feel into? This whole weird jealousy, watching my boyfriend get fucked thing? It’s probably one thing to talk about it and a very different thing to experience it, but the thought of it has me hot anyway.

“Tell me how you’d fuck me. Tell me what you want.”

“I’d fuck you hard, Link. God, I’d fucking pound you so hard. You’d have trouble walking for days when I’m done.” I doubt that’s true. He likes me, but I’m sure I’m not that good. “I’d make sure you know you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Rhett, I swear. I’m all yours.”

“You better fucking be mine,” I say with more confidence than I actually have. “You’re going to fucking prove you’re mine. Tell me how much I own your ass, Link.”

“It’s all yours,” he says. “I’m all yours. This ass is all yours,” he promises. “God, Rhett, this is so hot. You’re so hot. Fuck, I… oh my god…” his breath is ragged and I can tell whatever we’re doing has him so close.

“Damn right you’re mine. God, I can’t wait to get back to Vegas and destroy your tight hole, you know that?” I have no fucking clue what I’m even saying at this point. I’m jerking off really hard and really fast and saying whatever stupid shit pops into my head because I’m too turned on to really think about it.

“Fuck, Rhett, oh god, destroy me, please, fuck…” he’s moaning.

“Now that I know what the fuck I’m doing, don’t expect me to be gentle with you,” I tell him. “I’m going to have you begging for my cock.  _ Only  _ my cock. You got that?”

I can hear what comes next, can hear him come on the other end of the line, can hear the way he almost coughs and sputters out breath as he finishes. It’s enough to get me off, too, to help me finish, and I know he can hear me, too.

“Jesus, Rhett,” he says. “I didn’t know you getting jealous would get me off so good.”

“I didn’t, either.” And then it hits me that I really want to try something out, to test a theory I’m starting to get. “When’s your next show?”

“Tonight.”

“When’s your next show with someone else?” I ask him.

“I mean, as soon as I can find someone who wants to,” he says.

“Find someone. As soon as you can, get someone to join you. Fuck them on camera, whatever, do what you want, but then call me after.” I’m not asking him. I’m telling him. It’s really important to me that I test out what’s rattling around in my brain.

“Anything for you, baby,” he tells me. I have no idea what kind of shit I’m getting myself into but I’m still hard and I think I could literally get off again thinking about it. “Oh, and Rhett?”

“Yeah?”

“You want me to send you a copy of my dick, too?” he asks. “I can.”

“I was hoping you’d do that,” I say back. “I gotta go. Love you.”

“Love you.”


	84. In Theory/In Practice

**_I found someone willing. You sure you’re okay with this?_ **

 

I don’t know why he’s asking if I’m okay with it. We already decided that he was going to do it even before the phone sex.

 

**When?**

 

**_Tonight._ **

 

That’s quick. That’s not a lot of time for me to consider the fact that this is so crazy, that I’m literally using the fact that I’m jealous to get turned on and… gosh, are we actually doing this?

 

**I’ll definitely be watching. I mean, I always am, but… I’m okay with this. I’m ready. Don’t forget you’re mine after the stream.**

 

**_I’m always yours, Rhett. You know that._ **

 

**You know what I mean.**

**You topping or bottoming tonight?**

 

**_Do you have a preference? If you don’t want someone else fucking me, then I can ask to top. He’s vers so I’m sure it’s fine._ **

 

**Nah, do whatever you want but I think you should bottom.**

 

I don’t know what I’m doing. Am I really encouraging my boyfriend to get fucked by someone? I’m sort of half-hard thinking about the idea of him getting fucked by someone but then ending up being mine after. It’s a little bit hot. Fuck that, it’s a lot bit hot. I’m having trouble focusing on stuff all day because it’s almost time for his live stream. I was going to go watch it in my car or something, go check it out someplace else because I didn’t want to kick Gregg out, but I told him I wanted to talk to Link, told him I wanted to… TALK… to Link, and he got the message pretty quickly. He offered up the room and said he had other plans anyway, so I’m going to have the time to myself and I’m freaking out.

In theory, it’s really hot watching my boyfriend get fucked by someone and then me telling him he’s all mine after.

In practice, I hate it. Watching as he makes out with some other guy, watching as he has his mouth on his cock, watching as he’s riding him… I hate every single fucking minute. I thought I wanted this. I thought it was some new kink I could get on board with, that I could really be into the whole thing. I looked it up and it really even  _ is  _ a thing, so it’s not even like “oh my god, this is weird to be into this” and like… shaming myself for it or anything. It’s literally that it’s a thing and it’s a thing I thought I wanted and now that he’s getting fucked on camera, I really don’t want it.

I’m trying to be supportive but all I want is to turn the show off. I don’t want to watch Link get fucked. It hurts so bad watching someone do what I want to do for him.

In theory it sounded so great, too, the idea that I’d watch him and then I’d get to have him to myself after. In practice, I just want to throw up. I get that this is a thing for some people, and I get that tons of cam performers have boyfriends and still do  _ this.  _ Link even told me this particular guy has a boyfriend. But for some reason it doesn’t feel right. I mean, it’s like, morally whatever. He can do what he wants or what he needs to. But mentally I can’t take it. I don’t know. Maybe I’m going to have to skip the shows when someone else fucks him.

I want to watch until the end but I can’t. I’ve still got the computer right there but I pop over to another tab. I can hear them still. I can hear it and the sound of them fucking and the slap of their bodies and the way this guy is moaning all over my boyfriend and it’s awful.

I mute it. And then I wait. And about twenty minutes later, my computer is buzzing with a video call.

I can’t tell Link how much I hated it. It’s still his job. I guess I have to lean into this kink like I’m here for it. I don’t know what else I can do.


	85. Wh*re

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter does contain some name-calling and sex-work related slurs.

I don’t know how to tell Link I don’t like it. I don’t really have time to find out, either, because by the time I’m trying to think of what to say, he’s calling me online, video and all.

“Hey,” I choke out. I’m trying not to make it obvious that I want to cry. I’m trying to make it clear that we’re in this, that I’m going to play the jealous Rhett role he wants me to play, that I’m going to tell him how badly I want to dick him down and prove he’s mine now that someone else’s cock has been inside of him.

“Hey,” he says, cocking his head to one side and looking at me. “So he’s gone.”

“Good. I have some things to say.” That’s the dumbest intro I can think of, to phrase it like we’re in some sort of professional meeting or something.

“Oh yeah? Is it about the fact that someone else just fucked me? What are you going to do about it, big boy?” Link asks. He’s gone hardcore into flirt mode and this is when I have to turn it on. I have to turn it into something I can be okay with, but the images of him with someone else inside of him just keep plaguing me and weighing on my brain. I can’t shake them. I’m jealous. I’m so jealous that I feel a little sick. I honestly worry I’m going to have to end this call so I can go vomit. Maybe I can fake a stomach bug and say that it’s not anything to do with this. I don’t know.

“Get my cock,” I demand, and he does, pulling it out from behind the screen and it’s there and he seems so ready. “You still got his come in you? Do you?” I push.

“Yeah. He filled me up really good, Rhett. I swear he was trying to knock me up or something.”

The jealousy is getting more intense. I’m sure Link thinks he’s playing along like he’s supposed to, like I’m asking these things because he wants me to, but I’m a little angry with him for it.

“Good. Use that to fuck yourself, then. I’m sure he’s got you plenty slicked up, doesn’t he?” I’m asking, and I feel bad and of  _ course  _ if he needs more lube he can use it. I don’t want him to be hurt. Even though I’m hurt and my heart is shattered into a million pieces.

“Okay” Link says softly, like he would do anything I told him.

“Yeah, get it in there. Come on, fuck yourself hard. You feel that dick? That’s the dick you should be wanting, the one you should be thinking about. Can’t believe you’d let some other guy fuck you, Link. You’ve got a perfectly good cock for you right there. It’s right fucking there, Link.”

“It feels so good, Rhett. Your cock is so good.”

I wish I could say the ego boost is helping but it’s not. Even as he slides it in and out of himself, legs in the air so I can really get a good view, I can feel myself turning red. I’m so mad. I’m mad at him and the situation and I’m mad at myself for suggesting he find someone to fuck him tonight, but it’s all said and done.

“So how was he?” I ask. I don’t think I actually want to know. “Was he so much better than me? Hmm? You just had to have him, didn’t you. Couldn’t resist letting me see how much better he fucks you? Is that how it is? You have to rub it in my face that I can’t fuck you like he can? Fuck, Link. I can’t believe you’d do that to me. You goddamn cheating whore, I swear to god.” I’m not sure if we’re playing or if I mean the things I’m saying or if I’m being a jerk or if he’s into it.

“You’re so much better, Rhett,” Link says, and he’s going slower now, but he’s still fucking himself with it and I’m pretty sure he’s into it. I hope he’s into it. I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s not.

“Yeah? Then why are you slowing down? Why aren’t you fucking you like I’d be fucking you right now? I’d be going a hell of a lot harder, and I’d be pulling your hair and telling you that my cock is the only one you need, and you’re barely sliding it in and out like you don’t know this,” I said. “Tell me. Tell me my cock is the only one you need. Even though you’re a little slut who will give it up for anyone, tell me. Make me believe that you’re not going to do it again,” I’m pleading and now I know I’m not playing. I don’t actually think he’s a slut, okay? But I’m fucking hurt. Everything hurts. I’m trying so hard to make this good and it hurts. I can feel the tears stinging in my eyes and I’m not even trying to get off anymore.

“Wow, Rhett, seriously?” he asks, and he stops fucking himself. It’s still in him but he’s, like, frozen for a second, except I can see the rise and fall of his breath so I know the feed still works, that the computer didn’t freeze and the call didn’t glitch. “Do you seriously think I’m a slut and a whore and everything else?”

“No,” I said, and I mean that.

He moves and he slides it out of himself, setting my dick on the couch beside him.

“You said it like you meant it,” he says, and I can tell I hurt him. “I thought we were playing, and instead you’re being… I don’t know, Rhett… you’re kind of being mean.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean it. I don’t think you’re a slut. I know it’s for work, okay? It’s fine. It’s… it’s whatever,” I tell him. But I can tell there’s something we’re both not saying.

“You thought it was going to be hot, didn’t you?” Link asks me, and he’s looking down at the floor. Part of me wishes he’d put some clothes on to talk to me because I have a feeling we aren’t getting off anyway, and this just makes me feel weird.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “I mean, when we talked about it I thought it was going to be a hot thing to do, like… to watch you and then to tell you you were mine.”

“You didn’t like it, did you?”

“I’m just trying to make the best of it,” I tell him. “I’m trying to do what I can. You have to do this, so I have to do what I can. I thought you liked when I was jealous or played that whole like… character.”

“I did when you weren’t being mean about it,” Link said. “I think, uh… I think maybe I need a couple of days.”

“Please, please forget I said it and please let me take it back. Please, I swear to god I won’t say it again, I’m so sorry,” I tell him.

I don’t think it’s enough, though.

“Rhett, I love you. Okay? I love you. But um… I don’t know how I can keep going on with someone who can’t be honest with me, you know? Like if you can’t tell me it bothers you and if you’re going to say such mean shit and call me names and stuff? I mean, yeah, I know. I’m a whore, it comes with the territory. That’s part of it. You  _ knew  _ that. But now it’s like you’re judging me for it. You’re judging me for something you told me to do and I can’t take that kind of whiplash.”

“So what does this mean?” Everything hurts and I feel really sick now.

“It means that I love you but I need some time to think.”

“Will you text me?” I ask him.

“Give me some time,” he says. That’s not an answer. Or it is, but it isn’t the answer I’d hoped for.

“Okay. Bye, Link. I’m sorry. And I really love you. I’m so sorry.”

  
“I know,” he says. “Me, too.” And then he’s gone. And then I  _ do  _ get sick into my desk trash can. Fucking great.


	86. Calling it Quits

It’s been a day and I haven’t gotten so much as a text from Link. That fucking hurts, you know? The idea that we have all of that, that I fly to Vegas, that I clone my cock for him, all of it, and it’s over just because I said some shit. Like I’m not blaming him. It should be over. I’m a fucking prick and I hate myself for it. But it hurts that it can be over that quickly, with a single word. I’m assuming it’s over at least. He hasn’t given me reason to believe we’re still together. A day and no texts? That speaks volumes. Maybe I need to start finding something different. Maybe I need to find someone closer. Maybe this isn’t going to work out after all.

I feel like hell. My heart aches and my body hurts and I want to sleep. I want to ignore that any of this happened. I want to go back before I met Link and not meet him because I don’t want to live in a world where I knew him and I loved him and I fucked all of it up. I don’t want that.

Literally everything hurts. I’m tempted to text him and tell him I’m sorry, to let him know that I said the wrong thing, but I already said that and I don’t want to push him if he needs space from me. “I’m sorry,” I think. I think it again and again and again. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I would give anything to take back the words but I’m sorry. I can’t think it hard enough and I can’t seem to do anything else.

 

**I love you.**

 

My phone buzzes and I’m struggling to believe the fact that I’m hearing from him.

I don’t have a chance to respond before I get another one.

 

**What u said sucks but I think u know that.**

 

Now I’m typing, trying to tell him that I’m sorry, that I’d give anything to take it back.

 

**But I also get that I can’t ever really understand the way it feels to watch that. I thought about it and I don’t ever want to see smeone else fuck u**

 

_ I’m sorry _

_ I shouldn’t have said it _

_ I shouldn’t have ever even thought it _

_ I don’t think that of you, btw. I think you’re amazing and I think I’m so, so shitty honestly. _

 

**Ur not shitty. Let me talk first, Rhett. Please. It only makes this harder.**

 

That scares me. That makes me think that he’s going to break up with me, that this being harder is because he’s saying it to end it.

 

**I’m quitting camming.**

 

I want to tell him no, to tell him that I need him to keep doing it and that I don’t want to take his source of income from him. I feel like hell for even making him feel that way. Again.

 

**Like completely.**

**I think the only way to make things work between us is to make sure that this doesn’t happen again.**

**Ur more important to me than this job.**

**Okay that’s all I needed tos ay. I’m done. I didn’t mean u can’t talk forever. I just needed to say that 1st.**

 

_ You can’t quit. _

_ I mean you can, it’s your life. _

_ But I don’t think you should. _

_ I’m sorry I said that. _

_ And I don’t mind you camming or people watching you. _

_ I just thought I was going to like watching you get fucked and I didn’t. _

_ It was weird. I wanted to break that dude. I get that it’s work and that you don’t love him _

_ And I know I’m an asshole _

_ I know _

_ But I couldn’t disconnect it in my brain and make it clear it was work even if i know that _

 

**I know**

**That’s why I want to quit**

**So u don’t have to**

 

_ Or you could keep camming _

_ And I could just skip shows where other people fuck you _

 

**Is that enough? If you still know it’s happening I mean?**

 

If I’m honest I don’t know if that’s enough or not. I really don’t. I really really really really don’t. But I’m willing to try.

 

_ I don’t want you to quit because I’m the worst. _

 

**Ur not the worst. I told u. I thought about it and I would have fucking lost it if I saw someone else fucking u. For work or anything else.**

**Like yeah, u you were kind of an asshole for what u said.**

**But I can’t say I wouldn’ thave said the same thing if I had seen u get fucked**

**So it’s not really being an asshole**

**I think it’s human**

 

_ So you’re done done? _

_ Not just done with other guys in your shows done? _

 

**I don’t know how else to make this work**

**And how to make u feel okay with it**

 

_ Yes shows, no other guys? _

_ Is that enough income from you? _

_ Enough promo? _

_ God I wish I were there. Now that i’m not a virgin i could be in ur shows with u _

 

**That’d be hot. We could get an onlyfans, too.**

 

_ Semester is almost over _

 

**Rhett, finish ur degree. I was joking**

 

_ What if I don’t rule it out? What if I let myself think about it? You keep camming and I’ll keep thinking until the semester is over. Surely there’s a school in Vegas that offers this kind of degree. _

 

**Don’t say anything u’ll regret. But don’t worry, i won’t hold u to it.**

 

_ Are we okay, though? _

 

**We’re okay.**

**Maybe cool it on the whore stuff.**

**But u can call me a slut next time u fuck me. As long as I get to be ur slut.**

 

_ Deal. _


	87. Cheater?

“Rhett, can we talk for a minute?” Gregg seems so serious that I’m not sure how to take it.

“Yeah, what’s up?” I ask him. I turn my chair toward him and look at him carefully.

“I, uh. I didn’t want to be the one to have to tell you this, but uh, nobody else was willing, so I just first want you to know that I love you, and that if there’s anything I can do to help, tell me, okay?”

This sounds bad.

“Tell me what? What happened?”

“Don’t freak out.” That’s usually the first thing that someone says right before I feel the need to freak out. That’s not a good omen. “And I don’t know, maybe it’s not even a big deal or anything but um… has Chuck told you about his freelance job?”

“Yeah,” I tell him. “You know, just some intern kind of work he picked up.” I feel like, weird lying to him. Part of me wants to blurt it out, but that’s not my thing to tell.

“Okay, so um… I… God, this is so hard. Why couldn’t someone else tell you?” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Maybe it’s not a big deal at all, like, maybe you guys can find a way to make things work, okay? But um… I think he’s cheating on you. Or like, I know he’s cheating on you. Because it’s online.”

“He’s not cheating on me,” I say.

“No, he is. Um. God, this is so frustrating, but um… I have a friend who is gay. Not you, someone else. And um, well, it’s someone you know but he doesn’t want you to know it’s him because he’s just weird about it, okay? He’s not totally out yet just like you’re not all the way out yet and that’s fine. It’s cool. But um. He was browsing pornhub and found this clip and he messaged me and asked if I knew what Chuck was up to.”

“He’s not cheating,” I repeat. Gregg isn’t listening to me at all.

“I told him that I did, that he was doing some freelance work out in Vegas. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him about you two because I know not everybody knows, you know?”

“Gregg, listen to me. He’s not cheating,” I tell him again.

“He sent me a video. Here.” Gregg passes me his phone and it’s that stupid clip. Someone grabbed the clip of him getting fucked and it’s the one that made me feel like shit, the stream I couldn’t watch. “It’s recent. If you scroll down it was posted like, yesterday. I think he’s genuinely doing this like… actively.”

“Gregg,” I say, passing the phone back. “I know.”

“Wait, you fucking know? You know other dudes are nailing him and you’re like… you’re cool with it? I mean no judgment but if I was gay I’m not sure I’d, you know, let my boyfriend fuck other guys and be a porn star or something.”

“You know that analogy works the other way, right?” I ask him, and he gives me a puzzled look. “You can literally just say it as ‘you know if I had a girlfriend and she was sleeping with other guys on camera, I’d have an issue with it.’”

“Well, right, you know what I mean, but… but anyway, you knew?”

“Yeah. I knew. I um… that’s… I’m okay with it.” I didn’t want to go into details about how I wasn’t okay with this particular thing or anything, because it wasn’t relevant.

“Jeez, Rhett. How did he even tell you? I can’t imagine doing that, being like ‘hey, I know we’re dating, but uh, I also do porn.’”

I don’t want to tell him.  
I don’t think I have any choice but to tell him.

“That’s how we met. I, uh… I mean, don’t get your hopes up if you watch some camgirl or something, because I think the reason we worked out was because he already knew me or whatever, but um… I met him because I accidentally found his camshow. And we sort of started talking, and then I found out that he knew me, and knew you, and used to go here, and a whole bunch of other stuff. We hit it off, and um… I sort of just always knew, you know?”

“Wow. Well, I mean, I guess if it’s not a big deal, then I can, uh, not worry about it, then. I just thought you’d want to know.” He’s taking his phone and putting it back in his pocket. I want to stop having this conversation but I also don’t know how. I turn back to what I was doing, but then I turn back around.

“Hey, Gregg?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for having my back. If I didn’t know, then, uh… I’m glad that you would have told me. It means a lot.”

“Anytime, man.”


	88. Regrets

_ Gregg knows. _

 

**Knows what?**

 

_ About the camming. Somebody sent him a link to it on pornhub. _

 

**Someone uploaded it? Motherfucker. I could have monetized it. Do u have the link? I wnat to pull it down.**

 

_ No, sorry. I can ask him for it. _

_ So you don’t care if he knows? _

 

**Sort of assumed ud already told him tbh.**

**I mean not that u had to.**

**I just assumed uu did.**

 

_ Oh. I didn’t. Anyway, obviously he’s not telling anyone or making it weird or anything. I just thought you’d want to know that people here know. _

 

**I figured it was going to get found out anyway. I could location restrict it but then u couldn’t see me so it’s up to u i guess**

 

_ It’s your stream, baby. I just thought you’d want to know. But when I move out there, we could restrict it. Unless you don’t want to. I don’t have a preference. _

 

**Ur still thinking about it?**

 

_ Do you not want me to? _

 

**Rhett. Babe. I want all the time with u I can get. But u have a life there and goals there. I can wait.**

 

_ It’ll make camming easier if you can cam with someone. And you’re right. Onlyfans money would help pay the bills. _

 

**Degree first. Then we’ll talk.**

 

_ All fairness it’s not only your decision. Are you really going to say that if I showed up there tomorrow, you’d tell me to go home? _

 

**No**

**But not telling u to go home doesn’t mean i think u should come**

**I think u should do school first**

**And then come**

**But maybe visit me and i’ll make u cum before u can come for like… good.**

 

_ Funny :p _

_ But seriously, yes, I’m still thinking about it. I’m thinking about how we can make it work. _

 

**Don’t make any stupid decisions**

 

_ You calling trying to be with you a stupid decision? _

 

**It probably is but that’s not the point**

**I want u here and u know that**

**I also don’t want u to rush into it and regret it**

**Sometimes I regret it**

**That I rushed in and did it**

**I don’t want the same for u**

 

_ New goal: I transfer to a school in Vegas and try to get a degree and pay for it with my share of our Onlyfans. And I convince you to apply there, too. _

 

**U don’t really want that rhett**

 

_ I do. You have goals, too. Don’t think I forgot that. _


	89. Gaymer

_ You up? _

**Wtf Rhett? It’s 4am there.**

_ Didn’t answer my question. Are you up? _

**I’m texting u aren’t I?**

_ Yeah. _

_ I take it that’s a yes. _

**Yes. I was playing Kingdom Hearts.**

_ Oh. Text me after? _

**I can text now. I’m here. What’s up?**

_ I missed you. _

**Really?**

 

It’s been a while since we’ve had a late night conversation. Hell, it’s been a while since we texted a ton at all. Usually we sneak in voice chats and just text between them when we can. But right now, it’s 4am and he has my full attention and I have his.

 

_ Gee, thanks. _

**I missed u, too, Rhett. I was actually thinking it would be fun if u were here.**

_ Want me to play with you? _

**1 player game.**

 

I wouldn’t know because I never got into that franchise, but I like the way it sounds like he wants me there even if I can’t play with him. It feels like we’re okay now, like anything stupid I said is behind us. I mean we talked about it, right? So I’m pretty sure it’s good. He’s been good. And we’ve been talking. That’s always good. This feels good.

 

_ One player, huh? Want me to watch you? Keep you warm while you play? _

**I’m thinkin. I could play while u suck my cock. Then u could learn to play while u ride me.**

_ Playing while riding you sounds complicated for a game I don’t know. Here for the first part, then here for riding you after. _

**Fuck, Rhett. Either way that’s hot. Ud really suck me off while I play video games?**

_ Hell yeah I would. _

_ I’d get down on my knees in front of you, spread your legs apart a little bit. _

_ Play with your balls while I get you in my mouth. _

_ You could rest your arms on my head or my back or whatever while you play if you want. _

**Fuck. That’s really hot.**

 

The picture that loads isn’t of the controller now. It’s of his cock, hand on it, TV in the background and controller tossed aside. It’s hard for me not to want it. I’m already hard and already aching and already wanting him.

 

_ I want you so badly right now. _

**Got anything to fuck urself with?**

_ Fingers. Um. Not much else. _

**I need to send u a copy of me right away**

**Then u can have it anytime u want**

_ I want that _

**Until then, use your fingers. Or jack off. Whatever. Just send me pics? I want to see u.**

 

I do what he says, stroking until I’m achingly hard and precome is leaking from the tip of my cock. I’m trying hard to stay quiet but it’s getting more difficult to do that. So, I toss the blanket over myself so Gregg can’t see my camera flash and I take a picture.

 

**Ur cock is so perfect**

**Here look**

 

It takes a while for whatever he’s sending to get there, a good several minutes between his “here, look” and the video loading on my phone. I’m glad I have my headphones with me so I can hear him. He’s moving, sliding Little Rhett (I don’t know what else to call that thing… it’s not really my cock but it’s my cock, so… you know) into himself and I can hear him moan as he does. Fuck, I want to fuck him. I want to be with him. I want to come inside of him.

 

_ I need you. Now.  _

**What do u need baby?**

_ Need you to fuck me. Need to kiss you. Need to suck your cock. Need everything. _

 

I can’t resist him any longer, can’t imagine a world where I have to keep staying away from him. I feel like this, the way I feel and the way I’m dying to be there, confirms it for me.

I have to go there.

But first, I have to come here, and when I do, I barely have time to aim the camera, to try to record, but it’s too dark. He can’t see the way my come lands on my chest or the way I milk it out of myself a little more when I’m done. He can’t see the need I have, the way I desperately want him to be here to lick it off of me and then kiss me with lips that taste like my come because I’ll do the same the second I can get my mouth on his cock.

 

**I’ll do anything u want.**

_ Clean me up? _

 

I ask, and then I send the video, even though he can’t see, because every breathy, choked groan from my mouth, everything I had been so careful about being quiet with before, I stopped caring about when I came, and he could hear every bit of it.

 

**Fuck. That’s so fucking hot Rhett omg. I want to taste it.**

 

A picture loads and it’s  _ his  _ load, all over his the side of his hand, down his cock. It’s so much. I want him so badly.

 

**Go to bed**

_ I’ll text you in the morning. _

**Love u :***

_ I love you, too. _


	90. Scribble. Rip. Crumble. Trash. Repeat.

Scribble. Stop. Rip. Crumble. Trash. Repeat. I’ve been sitting at my desk for an hour and I still don’t know how to tell my mom.

So I keep scribbling. Stopping. Ripping the page out of my notebook. Crumbling it. Trashing it. Starting over.

 

_ Mom, _

_ I really don’t know how to tell you this, especially because I know you’re going to be disappointed in me, but it’s not as bad as you think _

 

Nope. Nope nope nope. That doesn’t work.

 

_ Mom, _

_ I hate being dishonest with you, which is why I want to clear something up. I met somebody. And they live in Las Vegas. And… I want to finish school in Las Vegas, so I can get to know them better. _

 

That one definitely doesn’t work. Unless I say “her,” my mom is going to know something is up, and I can’t lie because someday I might want to bring Link home if he’d ever let me.

 

_ Mom. _

_ I’m gay. Surprise! Also it turns out that time I had a bunch of study groups, I was actually losing my virginity to a hot camguy in Las Vegas. He’s the love of my life, and now that we’ve worked out a thing where he won’t fuck other guys, I really want to move out there and film with him so we can both pay for college and an apartment together. Thanks for understanding! _

 

That one will never work, but it felt really good to get it out anyway.

 

_ Mom, _

_ I know it’s not the plan that you had for me, or the plan that you had for my life. I know from years in church, and from the things you say about how ready you are for Cole to find a girl and settle down and give you grandkids, that this isn’t exactly something you’ll want to hear. _

_ But I feel like I need to be honest. _

_ I’m gay. _

_ Yes, I’m sure. No, there’s not any way you can change this, and no, there’s not some chance that it’s a phase and I’ll end up with a girl. I’m sorry if that isn’t something you want to hear, but I really have to be honest. _

_ While I’m being honest, I want you to know that I met someone. His name is Link, and he’s actually from around here. He’s really sweet, and I’m really feeling like we have a strong connection. Because of that, I want to transfer after this semester and move closer to where he lives now so we can get to know each other better. I know that part of why you liked NC State was that it was close to home, but I also feel like I need to branch out and think about my future, too. I’d still be getting the same degree that you and dad think is a good option for my future. I’d just be doing it in a different city. _

_ I love you guys. A lot. Which is why it’s really hard to say something that I know is going to disappoint you. But not saying it is harder. I feel like I’m being eaten alive from the secrets that I’m trying to keep, but I wanted to wait to say something until I was completely sure this is who I am and what I want. I’m sure mom. I’m gay. I want to move to Las Vegas. _

_ Love you, _

_ Rhett. _

 

It’s the strongest contender so far but I still worry it won’t be right. I also don’t know if I’m supposed to just mail this or if I’m supposed to email her or if I need to drive out to Buies Creek and tell her in person, let her know face-to-face how I feel or what I want.

 

I’m scared of both. I’m scared of sending it and never hearing anything back, or being blocked or disowned or whatever else.

 

I’m equally scared of going there, telling her, and watching her break down face to face.

 

But I wrote it down now. That’s progress. That’s something.


	91. Pride.

“What are you working on?” Gregg asks. I didn’t realize he was paying attention to me, to be honest.

“Um. It’s a long story.”

“Doesn’t sound like studying,” Gregg says. “You keep sighing and stuff.

“I’m trying to figure out how to come out to my mom,” I tell him. It’s true. I’m not really sure how to word it.

“Did you get it figured out? You didn’t crumble that one.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I think so, but now I have to decide if I’m going to mail this to her, or email it, or drive all the way out there and tell her… I don’t know which one will be easiest or which will make her hate me less.”

“Do you really think she’s going to hate you? Like what, you’re just telling her you’re gay?”

“Yeah… and then telling her that I want to transfer schools.”

“Wait, what?” He looks genuinely shocked by this and I realize I hadn’t told him that, either. I hadn’t mentioned the fact that I planned on leaving.

“I, um. I’m thinking about moving to Vegas. You know, be closer to Link and stuff.”

“Still weird how you call him that. I gotta get used to that name, man. Link. Link. Link,” he repeats. “So you’re actually moving? Like, this is it, after this semester? You’re out of here?” For a moment, it sounds like he’s upset about that a little bit.

“I mean, I don’t know. I was just thinking I would. Do you think that’s a bad idea?” I’m second-guessing it now. Maybe it’s stupid for me to consider moving across the country for someone I only just started being with.

“I think I’m going to miss having you as a roommate if you do, but… y’know, if it makes you happy or whatever…” Gregg trails off and he seems genuinely a little sad about it. I feel badly, because I really do like rooming with him and I really do like when we hang out, and I’m sort of sad now that I didn’t think about how that has to end for me to have the next thing I want. There’s a big part of me that wishes I could drag him along there with me, especially because he and Link know each other, and there’s also a part of me that wishes I could bring Link back here, but Link won’t come here, and it would be weird to be moving to my boyfriend’s and be like “oh, by the way, I brought someone with me” and that’s dumb. I don’t know.

“I’m going to miss it, too, man. We’ve had some really great times together. You know if I could get Link to come back here, I would, and then we could keep being roommates,” I said.

“Yeah, I know.” He’s like… genuinely sulking right now and I don’t know how to take it. He’s been so cool to me and I’ve been so shit to him sometimes by keeping him out of the loop.

“Hey, you know you’re my best friend, right? Like, we’re not just roommates. Me moving doesn’t mean we can’t keep in touch. There’s always skype and shit,” I tell him. I really do want to keep in touch with him, too.

“Yeah. That’s true,” he says. Then he looks away. “You really think it’ll be hard to tell your mom, though? Like, it wasn’t hard telling me, was it?”

“Not once I told you, no. You were cool about it. And it was a little different because you figured it out and called me on it, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he repeats himself, like he doesn’t know what else to say. Of course it’s true. I lived it that way. “I guess I just don’t know how you even do that sort of thing, like… just say it.”

“I don’t know, either, obviously. I haven’t come out to anyone, not really. You, mostly, but like I said, you asked if I was gay, so that’s a little different. I didn’t have to tell you from the get-go. It’s different when someone asks you versus havin’ to tell them. Before you asked, that was sort of an issue. You’d invite me to go to parties or offer to set me up with girls, and… and I didn’t know how to tell you that I’d maybe be down if you wanted to introduce me to a guy, or that I didn’t really enjoy faking it,” I tell him, and I can’t meet his eyes, either because this is weird and personal and super heart-to-heart. “Like I’m not mad at you,” I reassure him. “You didn’t know and it’s sort of easy to assume that I’m straight if I’ve never corrected you and I  _ thought  _ I was because I wouldn’t let myself think about guys and then when I did, it all sort of unraveled from there.” I’m rambling now. Shut up, Rhett. Shut up, shut up.

“Yeah. That makes sense. I’m sorry anyway, you know, for making you uncomfortable.”

“Thanks, man. We’re all good, though. I mean, you’re really cool about it and that’s helped me feel better about it. I get that it’s 2019, but it’s still North Carolina, so I’m usually waiting for the ‘I support you but not your sins’ talk, you know?”

“I support you, Rhett. That’s all. Not any disclaimers on that, you know that, right?” Gregg asks me.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Okay. As long as you know. And anyway, I don’t know. Sometimes it just felt weird that I was going out with the guys and not making it more fun for you. That’s all I was doing. I wasn’t trying to force you to feel weird or anything,” Gregg tells me.

“I know.”

“Anyway, um… I picked something up for you the other day. And I guess now feels like sort of the right time to give it to you,” Gregg tells me.

“You got me something?” I ask him. I don’t even know what to say to that.

“Yeah. I mean I thought you’d like it, but I guess now maybe it works as a going-away gift or something? Or like, a housewarming thing for when you get to Vegas?”

“Dude, you act like I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m still here for the rest of the semester. We’ve got, what, 3 months until I’m thinking about maybe leaving?” I remind him.

“Yeah, still. Anyway, here.” He rummages around in his backpack and pulls something out, tossing it to me. At first I’m not really sure what it is, but then I open the package. A rainbow flag. Like, a full-sized one. “I thought if you wanted to, you could hang it up. I’ve got posters of chicks on the walls and stuff, and I guess I don’t mind if you want to put your own posters up, of, um… the stuff you’re into, but I didn’t really know what your type was there, so I thought this would be a compromise. If you don’t want people to know, though, um… we can put it away or something until you leave.”

“Thanks, Gregg. Seriously, this is--” Wow, I’m crying, holy shit. “This is really nice of you.” It hits me that, outside of Link, no one has been as accepting and awesome and good to me as Gregg has. I don’t think anyone ever will. My parents, I’m still sure they’re going to go with the love the sinner, hate the sin vibe that I was always expecting from Gregg to begin with. But he’s been so chill about this. Like, he’s been a genuine ally and… I’m not totally sure how to take it.

“I thought it might be nice,” Gregg told me again. “And um. I sort of need to tell you something.”

“What’s up?” I ask him.

He reaches in his bag again, pulling out another flag. “If you do hang it up before you go, maybe you could hang it up next to mine?” He passes it to me, and I can see the colors. Bright blue, neon pink, bold yellow.

I’m not really sure what to say to someone who has been so accepting and kind to me, someone who is now trusting me with something big, too, and there’s a lot of pressure on me to say the right thing and I’m not sure what the right thing to say is. Instead, I still have tears in my eyes, and I nod, and I tell him “yeah, that’s a cool idea.”

“So this is okay? Like… like it’s okay that, um… I know that you’re probably not going to judge me since you’re gay, but…”

“Gregg. It’s great. Thanks for trusting me.” I’m crying so hard I can barely get the words out. I’m not crying that he came out to me necessarily and I’m not crying that he gave me a flag and accepted me and I’m not crying that he’s sad that I’m leaving or that I’m sad that I’m leaving because I realize that part of his issue with me leaving is that now he feels like he’s going to have to go through this whole coming out thing all over again with a new roommate. I get it. Mostly, I’m crying because I’m overwhelmed.

“This is going to sound really dumb, and if it’s not okay, then that’s okay, but… can we, like, hug?” Gregg asks me.

I nod, and it takes me like two steps to cross the room and wrap him in a giant bear hug. When I said this guy was my best friend, I meant it. I think it’s going to take us both a little while to stop crying.


	92. Tutorial

It never even occurred to me when Gregg came out to me that he was worried I’d think he was going to hit on me. It didn’t occur to me until like 6 hours later when I was half-asleep and he peeked over my bunk and was like “you know I know you have a boyfriend, right? Like I’m not making a move by telling you I’m pan, right?” all insecure.

“I didn’t take it that way at all, man. I know. We’re good.”

“Okay, good.” I feel him moving and trying to get comfortable again.

And then he’s peeking at me again. “But like, we’re cool, though?”

“Yeah, Gregg. We’re fine.”

“Okay.”

He’s gone again.

Until he reappears.

“I’m not trying to make this weird or anything, though. And Ch-- Link’s great. Like, he’s such a cool guy. You two are really good together.”

“Gregg. Shut up. I know. You don’t have to stress. But if you don’t stop talking about how cool he is, I might be less worried about you hitting on me and more worried that you’re hitting on him,” I say, waving a pillow toward his head to get him to go to bed.

“I don’t plant to hit on him, either. Just so you know.”

“GREGG! I know. I’m joking. We’re  _ fine _ . Seriously. Go to sleep.”

“Okay. Night, Rhett.”

“Night.”

“I actually like a guy from my creative writing class.”

“That’s great,” I tell him. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.

“He’s got this way with words and he does these incredible alliterative pieces that are  _ so  _ good, but I think he’s straight so--”

“I thought you were straight. You thought I was straight. If you like him, try making a move. Or don’t, I don’t know, Gregg. It’s like two in the morning.”

“Right. Sorry. Night, Rhett.”

“Night, Gregg.”

He’s quiet for a long time and I’m pretty sure he’s asleep. I’m ready to drift off, to let myself sink into a dream, hopefully about Link fucking my brains out or something.

“Hey, Rhett?”

I resist the urge to sigh when I say “yes?”

“How do you make a move on a guy?”

“If I knew, I probably wouldn’t have spent so many weeks ignoring Link when he was pretty blatantly hitting on me. Ask him. I don’t fucking know.”

“Okay. Night, Rhett.”

“Night, Gregg.”

I can physically feel his arm movements as he starts tapping out a message. Poor Link. I have a feeling he won’t be getting much sleep tonight.


	93. Secrets from the Past

**So Gregg’s pan, huh?**

 

_ Yeah. He came out to me yesterday. I take it he came out to you last night when asking for advice? _

 

**And you avoided me, huh?**

 

_ So Gregg came out to you, then? Asked you for advice? Did you give him good advice? _

 

**Dodging my question are u? Come on, Rhett, did u avoid me?**

 

_ You knew I logged out. I was scared. You really going to torment me about this? _

 

**Yup. Holding it over ur head forever. Can’t believe we could have probably been fucking sooner but u dodged me. Worst bf ever. ;)**

 

_ Hush. You gave him advice, though, right? I didn’t think he was ever going to shut up. _

 

**Like I have any advice. My idea of flirting was to give u a free live chat, but then u kept tipping a lot so I made it seem like ur reward so…**

 

_ Wait, you were planning on sending it anyway? I could have saved some money there? _

 

**Too late now. No refunds.**

**But yeah. I was always planning on it from the beginning when u were in there.**

**Even before I realized u were u. I liked u in the chats. U were respectful and chill.**

 

_ I didn’t know that. _

 

**Now u know. Anyway I think Gregg is going to ask the dude to coffee**

 

_ Good. I hope it works out for him. He deserves to be happy. We deserve to be happy. _

 

**Are u happy?**

 

_ You ask that like I don’t seem like I am. Or maybe like I shouldn’t be. _

 

**No! I mean I’m really happy and want to make sure u are, too.**

 

_ I’m happy. I’m really happy. I’d be happier if I were there right now. _

 

**Me too**

 

_ So you agree? I should be there? _

 

**Really? A trick question? That’s not fair. U know I want u here. U know I want you to finish school before instantly deciding u want to do porn with ur boyfriend just becuase u dont want me fucking other guys**

 

_ That’s not why _

 

**It’s not?**

 

_ I want to move to Vegas and do porn with my boyfriend because I love him and because I support him and want him to keep doing what pays his bills. _

_ And I want to do porn with my boyfriend because it would be fucking hot for the whole world to see how into each other we are.\ _

_ And I want to do porn because if I’m going to double penetrate you with my cock and with the cock I sent you then I think we need video evidence of that happening so I never forget that we did that. _

_ And I want to do porn with you because I want you to go back to school if you want to. No pressure if you don’t. And us doing porn will pay for both of our educations. _

_ And I want to do porn with you because I trust you more than anyone in the world. _

_ Link? _

_ You still there? _

 

**Go back to that part about the dp**

**I want to talk about that part again**

**Also I love you too**


	94. Rejected

**Rejected roommate incoming.**

_ Wait, what? _

 

Link doesn’t text back before Gregg sulks in, pushing his backpack to the floor and tossing himself face-first on the couch, burying his face in his arms. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I can hear him muttering.

“I take it things didn’t go well? Want to talk about it?”

“Ugh, they’re fine. I’m just dumb.”

“You’re not dumb. What’d you say? What’d he say?”

“I asked if he wanted to get coffee after class and he said he can’t because he has another class right after.”

“Okay. I’m waiting for the part where you’re dumb here. Not seeing it yet.”

“Oh my god, Rhett. I asked if he wanted to go after  _ that  _ class. And he was like ‘well, then the dining hall is open, so…’ and was all weird about it.”

“Sorry, um, he rejected your coffee offer by saying the dining hall was open?” I ask him. I’m so confused.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think maybe he was suggesting that you guys eat dinner together instead?”

“He wasn’t-- um. Fuck, shit, goddammit, Rhett.”

“What?”

“He asked if he’d see me there.”

“Yup. You’re right, Gregg. You’re dumb.”

“I’m dumb.”

“Go on, what are you wearing for dinner, then?” I ask him. Maybe it’s not a date and maybe this guy actually is rejecting him, but  _ maybe I’ll see you there  _ doesn’t sound like a rejection to me. It sounds like a  _ let’s not pay $8 each for coffee when we can get dining hall coffee for free and have a whole dinner time to talk to each other _ , I think.

“SHIT!” he curses, and then he’s not on the couch anymore. He’s digging through half of his closet dropping clothes to the floor as he whips hangers back and forth.

I have a feeling it’s going to be a long week.


	95. Lowkey Jealous

_ So about that rejection that you warned me about the other day. _

**Is he taking it well? U never updated me**

_ I’m currently locked out of my room _

**WHAT?**

**OMg**

**What**

**Are u serious**

**Are they banging?**

**Omg**

**Can you hear?**

_ Slow down there, mr voyeur. Just because you like people to watch you doesn’t mean everyone wants to be heard or seen. _

_ But no, they’re not fucking. I don’t think so. I haven’t heard anything that sounds like fucking. _

**Omg are u literally waiting outside the door?**

**Rhett omg**

_ I’m leaving, I’m leaving. _

**Dude are u sure they aren’t fucking though?**

_ Did you just call me dude? _

**Rhett this is serious**

**Are they fucking?**

**Did Gregg start hooking up with someone?**

**Omg**

**This is a huge deal**

**I mean it’s not a huge deal but like… good.**

_ You seem really enthusiastic about the idea that my roommate is hooking up with someone. _

**Ugh okay omg**

**Get away from the door and then call me**

  
  


I do what he says, walking away and heading out to my car. I really didn’t hear any fucking. I didn’t hear much. I heard talking. Then I heard quiet, and it sort of seemed like maybe they were making out. I’m not super updated. Gregg’s been keeping it quiet and guarded lately and I don’t know all the tea, but I know bits and pieces. I know enough. I know that they haven’t gotten that far but I also know Gregg wants to.

I don’t even know like, anything about Gregg’s story, if he’s been seeing guys for a while, if this is a new thing he’s finally willing to explore, I don’t know. I’ve been such a shitty friend for so long that I don’t know and I haven’t asked yet. I figure he’ll tell me more when he’s ready.

But for now, yeah, I gotta get away from the door, I gotta go somewhere that Gregg won’t hear me hovering. Once I’m there, I call.

“Jesus, Rhett, I thought you were never going to call,” Link says the second he answers.

“Sorry. I went to my car.”

“Well, you could’ve called me while you were walking.”

“I didn’t think it was that much of an emergency. What’s up, babe?” He’s being really intense for some reason.

“I have to confess something to you and you’re sitting here like, leaving me hanging forever and I’m stuck sitting on it and I swear to god I almost talked myself out of even telling you, it took you so long.”

Shit shit shit. He has to confess something? I’m scared. I’m worried he slept with someone for a video or something, I’m worried that he’s upset with me, I’m worried about a lot. “Confess what?”

“You called me out on being super into Gregg fucking somebody and you  _ don’t  _ know what I’m confessing right now?”

“Are you… are you into Gregg?” I can’t think of anything else that he could be thinking there.

“Oh my god, Rhett, no. Listen. I’m… I’m confessing that I am the biggest hypocrite on the planet!”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” I ask him.

“I mean you were like… really mad that I slept with someone for a stream and I understood but didn’t because you’d told me to do it, so I was really annoyed about it because I was like ‘whatever, this guy and I don’t even like each other,’ and shit. But your roommate comes out as pan and he’s asking you how to hit on guys and he’s buying you a flag and asking if y’all can hang them together and… fuck, I got so jealous, Rhett. I was terrified and paranoid that you were going to fuck him instead, that you were into him or that he was asking because he wanted to hit on you or something--”

“Slow down. What?”

“What?”

“You were jealous? Like… of me and Gregg? But we’re just roommates, Link. I don’t want him.”

“Rhett, I  _ know _ , but I can’t say that I wasn’t super relieved that he is hooking up with someone that isn’t my boyfriend. Even if I know that y’all aren’t into each other, I couldn’t get it out my head that you’re both attractive and right there in close proximity and probably changing in front of each other and I miss you and… and… fuck, Rhett, I don’t even know. Can you forgive me?”

“I called you a whore once because I was jealous of you. You’re seriously asking if I can forgive you for being like ‘damn, Rhett, I was lowkey jealous until I found out your roommate has someone he’s hooking up with’? Link. Baby. Come on.”

Jesus Christ. I’ve never been so relieved in my life by anything.


	96. JOI

“Hey, um. Gregg’s gone, right?”

“Yeah. He’s on a  _ date. _ ”

“Shit, they moved fast,” Link breathes.

“Link, they literally fucked before they ever went on a date. How is that moving fast?”

“Oh. Right.”

“Anyway, yeah, he’s gone. What’s up?” I’m sitting there, laptop on my desk, and Link bites his lip.

“We haven’t gotten off on cam in like 3 weeks.” He’s right. We’ve both been busy. We’ve gotten off and texted pics and short videos but we haven’t done  _ this  _ in a while. Getting me alone is… a struggle. Honestly. Gregg wants to talk a lot lately, ask advice on stuff I’m thoroughly unqualified for, and he’s been texting Link for the advice, and… I don’t know. Half of the stuff feels like a weird game of telephone 80% of the time, but again, it means I’m literally never alone for Link and I to get off together.

“Well, we have time now,” I say, and I’m smiling. I shift back, sliding my hand down my body but not taking my cock out just yet. I sort of want to get it hard first, and I can tell he’s liking the look of that by the way he bites his lip, watches me. He’s not even touching yet. He’s just got his head cocked to one side, watching me slowly stroke myself in my pants.

“God, you look so good like that,” he says. “You gonna get all hard for me? Gonna think about me sitting next to you, reaching my hand down your pants while you’re trying to study?” He always knows the words to say to get me going, and I’m getting hard and I’m feeling the effects of how fucking hot he is. He’s taking his shirt off and I can see the effects of the apartment fitness center in his ab flex. He’s been working hard.

“Fuck, Link,” I say. I don’t even know what to say outside of that. He’s so good with words, so good with things to say to turn me on.

“Fuck as in you want to fuck me? Because that’s do-able,” Link says, pulling out Little Rhett. “I can let you fuck me. Wish it were really you, though.”

“Me, too,” I remind him. “Before you fuck yourself with that, uh… talk to me.” I’m grasping myself outside of my sweatpants so he can see how big it is, remember as if he doesn’t have a carbon copy right there on his couch.

“Talk to you about what?” he asks.

“Tell me what you want me to do?” I suggest. I don’t really know. I just want to hear his voice and see his face.

“Ooh, wait, you mean like… a JOI kind of thing?” he asks. He draws one of his legs to himself and he wraps his arms around it.

“JOI?”

“Jerk off instructions. I tell you what to do, and you do it.” It sounds hot, sounds like fun, and then suddenly I remember.

“Oh my god, we’ve come full circle.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“I mean all of this started because I liked watching the way you got off. I kept trying to do it just like you because I’d never seen anybody like, overhand their dick before. I always jacked it like this—” I show him, waggling my hand in the air, and for a second I wonder why I didn’t demonstrate on my dick, so I nudge my pants down for the second part of it, “—and you did it like this. So I would watch and try to learn how you did it.”

“You used my camshow as an instructional video?” he asks me.

“I did what I had to to convince myself I wasn’t gay because I watched your show, you know? So I told myself it was about how you jacked off and me wanting to learn,” I clarified.

“Oh, baby. You weren’t gay because you watched my camshow. You were just gay,” Link offers, and we both crack up at that.

“True. But. Past me didn’t know that and I liked using you as a tutorial video, so… yeah. Full circle,” I tell him.

“Mmm, then I better get creative and make this a really good instructional session, hadn’t I?” Link asks me, and I’m so turned on I can hardly handle it.

“Yeah, if you want,” I tell him.

“Perfect. Stop touching yourself.”

“But… but it’s a jack off thing, right?” I ask. I’m confused now.

“Rhett. Listen to me. Stop touching yourself, okay?” he asks me this time, and I trust him. I do what he says. “Okay, good. Take your clothes off for me. Is that okay? You said Gregg was gone for a while?”

“Yeah, he’s gone. I can do it,” I tell him.

“Perfect. Go slowly, baby. I want to see.” It seems cosmically unfair that he gets to lean back, get his hand on his cock, and I’m not allowed to touch mine, but I’ll do whatever he wants me to, wait as long as I have to. “God, baby, you look so good,” he tells me as I slide my tee shirt up my body, rucking it up as I go, then pull it off over my head. I can tell I’m blushing at that as he keeps his eyes on me, watching as I do whatever I can to make sure I’m slowly removing my sweatpants. It’s not easy. Taking off sweatpants isn’t really a slow tease there. They sort of just… fall the second they’re off your hips. But I do it, trying to make it slow before I slip my underwear off, too, sort of kicking it aside. I’m naked, just like he asked me to be.

“Fuck, Rhett. I love your body. I love everything about it. It’s so hot that all that is all mine, you know that? That I get to have you whenever I want to, or, that I could if we were closer,” he clarifies. “The fact that your body is mine fucks me up, baby. It turns me on so much thinking about your body all over me, so fucking sexy like that. God, you’re hot.” He’s lavishing the praise on and I’m lowkey dying, the way I feel exposed like this.

“Thanks. I love your—”

“Rhett. Shhh.”

I do what he says and shut up.

“Sit down for me?” he asks, and I do what he says then, too, getting back in my seat. “Mmm, yeah, that’s good. Can you adjust that camera a little bit? I can’t see your dick.” I do, but then he lets out a soft, dissatisfied hum. “Okay move it back up a little, I can’t see your face as well.”

I do, but then he shakes his head. “Ugh, okay, move your chair back like six inches.” I do. “Okay, perfect.”

“Downside of having a tall boyfriend that doesn’t fit in your camera frame?”

“Yeah. Anyway, now I can see you. You know what I want you to do? I want you to play with your chest. Don’t you dare think about touching your cock right now. If I were there, I’d be teasing my tongue over your nipples, one side, then the other, but since I’m not I need you to do that, run your fingers over them where my tongue would be.” I do what he tells me to, and if I let my eyes close for half a second, I can almost imagine it’s him there, his touch, his lips, his fingers. I can’t keep my eyes closed long because I want to look at him, but god, the thought of it is doing it for me. I’m doing what he’s telling me and it’s feeling so good and I can’t stop, can’t get my hands off of my body. He hasn’t told me to. I don’t want to.

“Good. Can you move your hands down, squeeze your ass for me?”

That part’s weirder, squeezing my own ass, but I do it. “Imagine it’s my hands, Rhett,” he encourages, and that makes it less weird. “Fuck, okay, that’s great but I want to see it. Turn around for me and do it again?” I do what he says, turning my entire body around and squeezing my ass cheeks for him. “Oh my god, that’s perfect. You’re perfect. God, I wish you were there. I’d probably tie you down, make sure you still couldn’t touch yourself. Do everything for you…”

The words are killing me, making my cock throb. I’m definitely hard now and I haven’t touched myself since he started giving me instructions. “Okay, go back to how you were sitting,” he tells me, satisfied with my squeezes. “You’re being such a good boy for me.”

That’s a strange way of wording it but I’m into it. I’m so into it. Fuck, I’d probably call him Daddy if he wanted me to, and that’s not even my kink. It doesn’t seem to be his, either, because he drops the good boy thing right away, pretty much as soon as I sit back down. “I love the fact that you’ll do whatever I say, Rhett. You trust me, right?”

“I trust you,” I breathe, and I wonder how far this is going to go that I have to make that clear to him.

“Good. Then you gotta trust I’m going to make this feel so good for you, I promise.”

“I trust you,” I tell him again.

“Okay. Perfect. Remember how I told you to touch your chest and squeeze your ass and stuff?”

Obviously I remember. It happened like 12 seconds ago. I nod.

“Okay good. You’re not allowed to do that. I want you to put your hands on the arms of the chair and do nothing. No touching. Anything. Just hands on the arms. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say, but I’m suspicious now. It’s supposed to be instructions on how to jack off and right now it’s the opposite, saying I can’t touch.

“Good. Watch.” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He’s gonna make me watch him get off and not let me touch myself? Oh god. I don’t know if I can handle that, if I can keep from coming all over myself.

He strokes himself slowly, I mean excruciatingly slowly given I’m not allowed to touch myself. I mean, basically all of this started because I got off to watching him get off, and the fact that I have to watch him get off without getting myself off is genuinely about to make me lose it everywhere. Like. Fuck. I don’t even have words for how frustrated I am in a good way, how good of a tease this is. I swear he knew just how to torture me and is using it to his advantage. God, I am  _ aching. _

“Mmm, Rhett, it would feel so good if this hand was your hand. What was it you said you liked? When I stroked it overhand like this?” He moves his hand overhand and it brings back this wave of emotion I wasn’t expecting, this feeling of everything we’ve come from and all that we are now compared. I literally can’t tell if I want to cry or fuck. “Yeah, this is so good. When I do it like this, it feels like your hand is on me. Oh my god, Rhett. Can you imagine if it were you stroking me right now? Fuck. I bet you’d use your mouth, too.” He spits in his hand and rubs it on his cock, then curls into himself and spits right on the head of it, using that as lube to get himself off and I am so fucked right now because it’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. “You like that at all? Hmm?”

“Yeah, oh my god, Link,” I tell him. I’m sure that I’m tempting fate and probably making it so I have to wait longer, but I have to ask. “Can I touch myself yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“Okay.” I’m rock hard and just watching has me dripping, leaking from the tip and dying for more.

“God, Rhett, hold on a sec. I mean you’re not allowed to like, play with yourself, but are you seriously dripping right now?” He noticed, too.

“Yeah.”

“Touch it. Don’t get yourself all riled up or jack off or anything. Just get that precome on your fingers, okay?”

“Okay,” I tell him, and I lift my cock up with one hand and run my fingers over the tip with the other and I literally shudder because touching myself, even a little, might make me come. I can feel more precome leak out, can feel it dripping out of me, and it’s all over my fingers now. As I lift them off of the tip, a stretch of precome comes with it and I’m praying he can see it over my shitty webcam. “Is that good?”

“Holy fuck. You should be here. You should be sliding those slick fingers inside of me, Rhett. God, that’s so fucking sexy. I want you to fuck me like that, all wet and dripping and horny, Jeez…”

“I wish I were there,” I tell him, but right now my balls are aching hard and if he doesn’t let me get off soon, I might just die.

“Lick it.”

He’s changed the subject so fast my head spins and I’m doing what he says, lapping at the precome on my fingers.

“Come on, Rhett, you can take it deeper than that. Suck on your fingers like they’re my cock,” he tells me, and I do, pushing them to the back of my throat until I’m choking, lips wrapped around them. “Yeah, fuck, oh my god,” he says, and he’s jacking off and I’m still not allowed to, still have to keep myself from doing it while I literally basically facefuck myself with my fingers for his pleasure.

“You know what’s really hot about this for me?” Link asks.

“What?” I garble around my fingers.

“Feels like a reverse of how we met for me. Now I get to get off watching you act like a little slut on camera instead of the other way around. And trust me, I get the appeal of it right now. God, look at you, you’re such a good little camwhore. If this were Chaturbate I’d be throwing tips at you non-stop.”

“Now you see why I’m broke,” I chuckle after pulling my fingers from my mouth. I remember how much I tipped. I remember how much I spent.

“Fuck, babe, yeah.” He’s not talking as much anymore, getting his pace faster and faster as he watches me. I’m watching as he pours lube onto Little Rhett and I can see where this is going. I can see what he’s about to do, and I’m praying when he puts it in himself, he’ll let me touch. “Okay. One last thing before I let you come,” he promises me, lifting a leg in the air and sliding down the couch so he can hold my cock copy between his legs, so he can be ready to slide it in.

“What’s that?”

“You can’t touch your dick. Fucking yourself with your fingers is fair game. Playing with your balls is fair game. Don’t. Touch. Your. Dick.”

For jack-off instructions, this is weird. You’d think he would want me jacking off. But he doesn’t.

“You got anything there?” he asks. “Y’know, to like… fuck with?”

I don’t think so. I mean, what would I even fuck myself with? It isn’t like I’m him, like I have his dick around to use. I’m staring at my desk, trying to find something. I’ve got Sharpies, and if I use the back-end instead of the lid, that might work. God, I need to get myself some toys, I swear. There’s a stapler but that seems absolutely fucking useless in this moment because I’m sure as hell not shoving that up my hole. “Oh!” I exclaim, grabbing a thick stick that’s way too short to be like his cock, but is a good thickness, one I’d really like to use. “It’s um, it’s like IcyHot?” I say, holding it up. It’s in stick form.

“Yeah, fuck, that’s perfect. Use that.” I’m so into it. I shuffle through my drawer for lube, pouring it onto it and sliding a finger into my ass, then another, getting myself open for it. It’s harder than I figure it’ll be to slide in, not as tapered as his cock and I’m out of practice from not being there, not that I ever had much practice to begin with. But he seems like he’s in awe, and he’s sliding the fake version of my dick into himself and I’m already so hard that I don’t think it’ll take much to make me come. Like I assume if I hit my prostate once, I’m gone, basically. I’m already most-way there.

I’m going gentle as I fuck myself with it, slowly but surely, but he’s sliding my dick in and out of him like it counts for something, like it’s some sort of race, while he jacks himself off and it’s killing me because he’s so fucking hot.

“Y’know if we ever did want to both bottom at the same time, we could always get a double-ended dildo. They’re not just for like, lesbians or whatever,” Link says, and it’s weird how turned on I am by the thought of us both bottoming at the same time like, both moving and pushing into each other and… fuck, I could come just from the thought of that alone but I don’t.

“What if you fuck me while you’ve got a butt plug in?” I ask, and his eyes flutter as he thinks about it and he nods emphatically.

“Oh my god, Rhett, you have the best ideas, fuck, oh my god, that makes me want to come. I’m gonna come. Fuck, yeah,” he says, and he’s opening his mouth a little, and I watch him shoot far enough that he catches some on his tongue and I swear to god I died and went to heaven right there because seeing my boyfriend give himself a facial is basically the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life and I sort of want to scream it’s so good.

And that does it. Without touching my cock really, aside from the initial tease and once to get my precome all over my hands, I’m coming. I’m fucking myself with a closed stick of muscle reliever and I’m coming. I don’t have the aim he does because I’m not holding it, and I’m not jerking so it doesn’t shoot out. It just spills out along the side of my dick, pulses out of me, and it’s almost fascinating to watch because I’ve never come that hard without touching my dick at all.

“Fuck, Rhett. That was really hot.”

“Yeah,” I said. I’m too delirious to really come up with anything else to say.


	97. Bad Ideas

So here’s the thing. It’s almost fall break.

I go to motherfucking Las Vegas on fall break.

And I think I have to find a way to stay. I mean, okay, I get that it’s mid-semester and it’s a bad idea and all of that to do it right now. But. I have to find a way to be there. It’s not just the shit Link says about double-ended dildos and how fucking hot that is to think about. It’s not about how I could be there and we could fuck whenever we wanted.

It’s about the idea of being free.

I still haven’t come out to my parents. I’ve had the damn letter written for a week. I mean hell, I put it in an envelope and addressed it. Then a few days later, I took it out of the envelope and addressed it. Then a few days later I took it out of the envelope and put it in my wallet and hand deliver it. I’ve done neither by the way. It’s back on my desk now. I don’t know what the fuck to do.

We hung our pride flags. Me and Gregg, I mean. It looks awesome and I like having them up and being out even though nobody’s really said anything outside of his… boyfriend? Fuckbuddy? I’m not really sure.

That’s not the point.

I want to go to Vegas. I want to  _ stay  _ in Vegas. I keep thinking about it and I keep saying it. I keep wanting to make it happen. And I keep worrying if I want until the end of the semester I’ll have waited too long.

Not for Link or whatever. I trust him. I trust he’s not like, got this clock ticking down on how long he’s going to wait for me to come back or anything. I mean, fall break is right around the corner and I’ve already bought a plane ticket and all that. I’m excited. I get to see him. That’s the big thing.

The thing I’m taking issue with is the part where I have to come back.

The part where I can’t be with him.

The part where I can’t see him every day.

The part where I have to be in goddamn North Carolina wondering why the fuck I can’t be in Vegas.

That’s the part I don’t want.

So here’s the thing.

There’s this massive part of me that is starting to wonder if, when I get on the plane a week from now, I might conveniently lose my return ticket. That wouldn’t be a problem except I literally  _ have  _ to come back. Because school.

Unless I come out to my family now and tell them I’m leaving.

Unless I drop out for the semester, get my transcripts, and restart school in January in Vegas.

Is that even something I can do?

...shit. I shouldn’t even be considering this, right? Should I? I don’t even know.


	98. After Break

“What would you do if I didn’t come back?”

“You mean like if you got in a plane crash or somethin’?” Gregg asks me.

“Uh, no. I meant as in if I didn’t get on a flight home. But way to scare the shit out of me, man. I hadn’t thought about a plane crash.” Great. Helpful. That’s so wonderful.

“Are you really thinking about doing that?” Gregg asks. He’s eyeing me from his bunk as I pack.

“I don’t know. It’s sort of ridiculous that I’m only one trip into this and already feeling like I don’t want to keep doing long distance. Obviously I  _ can  _ keep doing it, physically, but why should I?” I ask him. “If I could be there, why am I not there?”

“Because you’ve got school?”

“I can drop out here and re-enroll there,” I tell him.

“Okay, what about because you haven’t come out to your parents?”

“I can call them from Vegas and tell them,” I say.

“Yeah, but is that really how you want to tell them that you’re gay? On a phone call halfway across the country when they don’t even know you went to Vegas in the first place?”

“I think it would make it harder for them to kill me, I guess,” I joke, but he doesn’t laugh. I’m still packing.

“Why are you packing so early for your trip?” I mean, there’s still like a solid week until I leave so it makes sense for him to wonder what’s up there. But the thing is… I have a reason.

“I was thinking about moving my flight up. I mean, if I’m not coming back after the break, why wait for the break to leave?” I ask him.

Gregg walks across the room and he sits on the couch next to me. “Wow. It sounds like you’re actually considering this.” I don’t really know what to say to him to that. “You’re really gonna leave me like that, huh?”

“I’m not leaving you! We’re still friends. We just won’t be roommates anymore. And besides, you knew I wanted to move to Vegas,” I remind him.

“Yeah, at the end of the semester. After fall break. After a lot of things. I didn’t know you were thinking about leaving now.”

“I’m not completely set on leaving now,” I tell him. “It was just a thought. Nevermind. I’ll come home after the break. Promise.”

“Yeah, okay,” he tells me. He nods slowly like he doesn’t believe me. “Listen, man. You know I support the hell out of you even if I don’t get it. I know it’s easy for me not to get it because the guy I’m hooking up with is right here instead of across the country.” He takes a long, deep breath and I sort of nod because I don’t know what else to do. “If you get there and you need me to ship your stuff to you, just tell me.” He looks at the ground and I can tell that even though his words are super supportive, his feelings are something totally different. That’s okay. I get it. I didn’t expect him to get it anyway.

Besides. It’s stupid. He’s right. I have to tell my parents. I have to come home. I have to pack and finish my semester and all that shit anyway.

It was a nice thought is all.

“I’ll be back after break.” I tell him. Then I add “barring a plane crash or whatever.”


	99. Important Questions

I still can’t get the thought out of my head. Yeah, even after I promised Gregg I was coming back. Yeah, even though it’s a terrible idea and I can’t actually do it. Yeah, even though I know all of this logically. It feels like this isn’t really one of those choices you make with logic. It’s one of those that sort of just… happens.

Anyway, I sort of can’t help but bring it up with Link, either.

“So this isn’t something I… uh. I don’t actually plan on doing this but I had a hypothetical question for you,” I lead with. It’s probably pretty important I start with that so he knows where I stand there.

“Okay, shoot.”

“What would you do if — hypothetically, obviously — I didn’t leave after I come visit you?”

“You mean like… if you got a one-way ticket to Vegas instead of a round trip one?”

“Yeah.”

“I think you know I’d obviously worry about you with school since it’s the middle of the semester,” he tells me. “I don’t want you to make the same mistakes and fuck-ups I did, Rhett. You know that. You know I think you should at least see out the semester before you come here.”

“I know,” I tell him.

“Gregg’ll be pissed if you do that. He already sort of texted me worried that you’re going to move out here soon.”

“I don’t think he’ll be pissed. I think it’s one of those things where we are best friends and he relates to me a lot and shit, and… and he’s worried about the fact that I might not be here for him to get advice from or whatever,” I tell him.

“I think it’s more than that, Rhett. I think you two have a closer connection than you realize. Either way, I don’t think he’ll be happy if you do that.”

“Yeah, I know,” I tell him. “Mostly I just keep thinking about how hard it was last time. I mean, you know it was fucked up how I left and you know we needed more time,” I tell him. “You can’t tell me you don’t remember it feeling like shit, you know? Or I don’t know, maybe you can.”

“Rhett, after you left I basically did nothing but eat or sleep for a week. I got the keys to my place, I moved in, I plopped an air mattress in the living room floor, and I slept. I remember. It sucked. It hurt like hell and I wanted to… I wanted to get a flight out to North Carolina right away. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to going back.”

“You’re not exactly doing a good job of convincing me to come home after my trip to see you,” I tell him. I have to be honest there.

“I think you should come see me for fall break like you planned to. And then I think you should go back to North Carolina and decide how you feel. And I think you should try to finish your semester there and apply for school here,” he says. But he says it in a way that makes me feel like he means it about as much as Gregg meant it when he said he’d ship my stuff. Gregg wants me here and he’s my best friend, but even though Link is telling me to do what I’m supposed to do, I’m starting to think he really  _ does  _ want me in Vegas.

And now I’m even more fucked than I was.

The smart thing for me to have done would have been to tell my parents before I got on the plane.

One trip to Vegas without telling them is one thing because there was a chance going there the first time would have told me I was wrong about being gay or falling in love with Link or whatever.

Two trips without telling them makes it pretty clear I'm hiding it.

But I don’t know when I'll actually be ready to tell them. Do I call? Do I tell them when I get ready to go? Do I tell them as soon as I get home? I don't know. Part of me wants to not tell them at all. Part of me thinks it'll be really fuckin weird if Gregg was right about a plane crash and my parents see something about a crash on the news and ignore it and then people show up at their door like “by the way, your son was on that plane.”

Too late now. I'm crammed into my seat and it feels like the wrong time to send a text and be like “hey, this flight you didn't know I was on leaves in a few minutes but by the way, I'm spending fall break with my boyfriend.”

And yeah, I could text them and say that I impulsively decided to go to Vegas “with the guys” for fall break so they'd know where I was… but do I really want to field a million questions when I'm trying to focus on Link? Um no. Not even kind of.

I just want to be with my fucking boyfriend.


	100. Little Rhett

Maybe it was all the talk about plane crashes, but now I can’t get my mind off of it. The chaos and screaming, the idea that I’m sacrificing by saving other people just so I can have some extra leg room freaks me the fuck out, too. The first time I flew out to Vegas, I didn’t think twice. Now I’m paranoid.

And the fire isn’t helping. I can feel the heat of it. I can feel it getting closer and I can’t get the emergency exit door open and I’m starting to panic because what if I die and never see Link again and… then I wake up. And I’m freaking the fuck out even more because what the hell kind of person dreams that they’re in a plane crash  _ on a plane?  _ If the godawful bathrooms on the plane weren’t so damn tiny, I would’ve gone back there just to catch my breath, but climbing over someone and walking down the aisle and trying to get it sorted is too much for me. I can’t do it.

So I don’t. I just sit here and I twiddle my thumbs and I pray that I make it to Vegas safely. The plane is landing and I can feel it. I feel the thunk of landing gear and the way that the plane is clearly dipping a little, that weird little leap in my stomach where it feels like my internal organs haven’t quite caught up with my external body as the plane drops. And drops. And drops. But the safe kind of drop, the good kind that means I’m landing and I get to see Link soon.

Seeing him, that’s the highlight. That’s the thing I want most. That’s all that matters and as the plane hits the ground, it’s all I can focus on. We made it. We landed safely. I’ll worry about the return flight when I get to it… that doesn’t even remotely matter. All that matters is I am in Las Vegas. I’m in the same city as my boyfriend.

I don’t even know how to describe what it’s like getting off of the airplane and walking through the airport and finding him, seeing him standing there. When I get my arms around him, I can’t let go. “Can I stay like this forever?” I mumble in his ear, and he nods.

“Y’know we might have to take a break once in a while to like… eat. Or shit. Or something. I don’t know,” he’s saying, and his hands are twisting in my shirt. I just pull him closer to me.

“Nah. We don’t need all that. I just want to stay like this.” It’s true. Like yeah, as much as I missed fucking him and stuff, I don’t know, I missed this, too. I missed holding him and smelling him and… fuck. I really don’t want to leave. I can’t think about that, though. I can’t think about the fact that if I’m not careful, I won’t get on a flight home. Right now I have to think about the time we have, which is just a few days, but that’s enough. That’s something. That’s the part I’m gonna cling to.

“Mmm, okay. So you don’t want to go pick up some McDonald’s and go check out our apartment?” Link asks me. The subtle  _ our  _ isn’t lost on me but I’m afraid to call him on it in case he misspoke.

“Fine, I do,” I tell him, and I pull back from him. But then damn it, I really can’t resist saying something. “First though, our?”

“I mean I know it’s not ours officially or whatever, right?” Link is saying, taking my hand as I grab my bag with the other one. “This isn’t how I wanted to go about it, either. I wanted to be way more smooth about this. I wanted to say that, uh… that maybe when you get here in January — if you still want to come in January. But like. Whenever you come, I guess —” He’s tripping over his words and I feel a little badly for making him so nervous with this.

“January,” I confirm.

“I wanted to know if maybe you wanted to move in with me.”

I mean, for one, I sort of thought that was the plan, the idea that I’d be moving in with him and living with him, but now that he’s extended an official invitation for that, I’m overwhelmed. I want that. I want that so much I can’t stand it.

“I want that,” I say to him. I want everything with him. “I want everything with you.” He needs to know that I’m thinking that. He needs to know he matters that much to me.

“So… you’re going to, uh… you’re going to move in. In January. And… and it’s our apartment. Yours and mine.”

I nod. “Is that okay?”

“That’s the best thing ever.”

By the time we’re at his — our — place, though, he’s biting his lip and acting nervous. “What if you don’t like it?”

“I’m going to like it. And if I absolutely hate it, then I’ll get here and when the lease is up, we’ll find something we like better. A new place. Together. Right?”

“Right, okay.” He reaches into his pocket, McDonalds bag in his other hand, and pulls out his key. “Okay. Well. Welcome home.”

It’s beautiful. It’s underfurnished as fuck. Like. It’s really, really underfurnished. There’s a futon in the living room and the cabinets are pretty sparse outside of a Keurig, and I really don’t see much else in the entire place. That’s okay, though. He doesn’t have to have a lot of furniture. But we’re alone and I can’t wait any longer. Because yeah, I miss being with him, and yeah, I’m hungry…

...but also I want to fuck him. So even though he’s got his hands on the bag of food, I can’t help but make him turn around so I can kiss him.

“What if we eat later?” I ask him, even though he’s got the food halfway laid out on the counter.

“Hmm?” he asks, kissing me.

“Better question: what if we eat our food later and I eat my boyfriend’s ass  _ now?”  _ I clarify. I want him. I want him so badly that I can’t wait until after my Big Mac. I need him now. I need to taste and touch and feel him now. And he doesn’t have to answer with words because my hands are on his thighs and I’m hooking my hands around his legs and I’m pulling him up and he’s wrapping his legs around my waist and I’ve got him on the counter. I could take him to the bedroom. I  _ should  _ take him to the bedroom. But I can’t get that far or wait that long. I can take him, take him right here, take him right now on this fucking kitchen counter.

Getting his pants off is easy. He lifts his ass off of the counter long enough for me to do it. And then I’m basically ready to go. I don’t need anything but his cock and his ass and his legs in my hands and… fuck. I love him so much. Every inch of him. And I want that cock in my mouth. So I take it. I take him deeply and I wrap my lips around him and I’m choking but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but the way he tastes and smells and feels and yeah, I really really really want to fuck him later but I’ve got other plans now. Right now I want him to feel good.

After I’ve been sucking his dick for awhile it hits me. He doesn’t have to wait to eat if he doesn’t want to. “You can eat while I do this if you want” I tell him. Honestly there’s something a little weirdly hot about him doing whatever while I pleasure the fuck out of him, you know? There’s something a little wrong and dirty and amazing about him eating or doing dishes or studying while I’m fucking him or sucking his cock or doing anything else to him, with him. I like the thought.

“I don’t have t—”

“You should eat,” I tell him and I reach for the chicken nuggets and slide them a little closer to him. I want him to. “Where’s little R—” I stop myself because I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned that I named it a little bit? It seems weird to spring that on him. “Where’s the dick clone?”

“Rhett?”

“Yeah?”

“What did you start to say?”

“Where’s… um. I—” God it’s so embarrassing. “I sort of named it?”

“You named the clone dildo?”

“I named the clone dildo.”

“What’s his name?” Link asks me, and he’s put the box of nuggets back down. He looks so cute there, wearing his tee shirt, pulling his knee to his chest and wrapping his arms around it while his other leg dangles under him. And his cock is still hard and sticking up right there between and… fuck. Fuck he’s hot.

But I’m embarrassed as hell and I look at my feet because this is  _ weird. _

“Come  _ on,  _ you can’t tell me he has a name and then not tell me what it is,” he whines.

“Little Rhett,” I mumble.

“Little Rhett?” he asks, and there’s a cheeky-ass smirk on his face and I hate it hate it hate it because he’s going to laugh in my face but… he doesn’t.

“That’s amazing,” he says, and it sounds like he means it. “Little Rhett is in the bedroom on the table next to the bed. You’ll see it as soon as you get in there. Lube is in the drawer.”

“Thanks,” I tell him.

“Oh, and Rhett?”

“Yeah?” I’m halfway through the bedroom door and I stop, turning to look at him.

“When we have kids we can’t ever name one after you. I can guarantee one of our friends or whatever will call them ‘Little Rhett’ and I’ll internally die so… we have to scratch that name off of the list.”

“I think that’s fair.” I’m pretty sure I’d internally die, too.


	101. Fuck Is Right

He’s right that it’s right there, the dick clone, and I’ve got plans for it. Clearly he has plans, too, because in the few seconds it takes me to get in there, he’s moved to the lower part of the counter. Not just that, but he’s bent over it, legs spread, and holy shit, he’s hot.

I’ve only been home — and yeah, for this weekend that is how I’m going to think about it — for a few minutes and he’s already got his ass on full display for me, so I can have him however I want him. And God, I want him so bad.

“You find what you needed?” he asks me when I get back in and I’m half tempted to chuck Little Rhett to the side, cross the room, and get my face right there between his cheeks but I had a plan and I’m pretty determined to stick to it.

“You’re off the counter. Why’d you get off the counter?” I say it like I’m mad but fuck, he looks so good like that. I’m not mad at all. I want him just like that. Except I don’t. I want him on the counter like I fucking had him. Really, I want him any and every way I can get him.

“So you could fuck me,” he says, wiggling his ass and looking over his shoulder at me, dipping a chicken nugget in some sauce and taking a bite. Fuck, it’s so hard not to give in and take him like that.

“Dang it, Link, I had you where I wanted you,” I tell him, and I come over to him, giving him a small smack on the ass real quick and sharp. I think it probably made my hand sting more than his ass because he barely flinched.

“So get me there again. Not my fault you walked away.” He’s being cheeky and I like it, I love the way he can be a real smartass when he’s pushed to be. I slap his ass again because it’s fun how it sounds and because I’m trying to get a reaction from him but all he does is pick up another chicken nugget. “You gonna keep giving me little love licks or are you gonna fuck me with that dildo like you promised?”

God he’s being a little bitch right now, and I’m eating it up because I’m hard and I want him and he’s too fucking hot. So I’m going to do what he asked and I’m gonna fuck him, but not in the way he thinks I’m going to probably. What I do instead is grab him by the hips and turn him around, plopping him on the counter where he’s supposed to be and biting his nipple. “You gonna keep being a smartass or are you gonna let me fuck you like I promised?” I ask him finally, and he runs his fingers through my hair and it feels so good that I don’t even care that he’s got chicken nugget grease on his hands. I don’t care. He can touch me however he wants to.

“Fuck me, baby,” he tells me, and I’m so ready to. I’m half tempted to do it now, to fuck him with my own cock and ditch every plan I’ve ever had because he is tempting the fuck out of me. God, why is it so hard to stick to my plan? But I do. I push him back a little, not hard or fast, not enough to hit his head on the upper cabinet. Just enough to get him to lean back against them while I yank his hips forward. I need more access if I’m going to do what i’m going to do.

And then I spit. I spread his cheeks and spit on his tight fucking hole and I see how it runs down his skin and I’ve got a finger in him and  _ fuck  _ I swear he was ready for me to come because he opens up for me easily. I want to take my time even though it’s been a while. I really do. I want to make sure that he gets overworked and overwhelmed and that he’s pretty much basically begging me to stop. Is that such a bad thing to want?

I brought the lube with me to. And a few condoms I found in his drawer because I’m pretty sure this ain’t the only time I’m gonna fuck him in this kitchen so I may as well have them on hand. But first, I want him to cum. Yeah, that sounds a little weird that I want him to do that before I fuck him but I’m telling you, I want him to be pretty much squirming away from me. In a way, I want to see how far he’ll let me take it before he’s gotta get me off another way.

He’s so hot. He’s so willing and hot and perfect and fuckable. And that’s a big deal.

The lube makes it easier than my spit, makes my fingers slide in and out of him and he’s not really focused on the chicken again but I want him to be. I want him to just keep doing what he’s doing as if I’m not fucking him because soon I’ll be fucking him and he won’t be able to eat chicken.

“Aren’t you hungry?” I ask him, and he laughs, shaking his head and taking another chicken nugget from the box.

“This your kink? Making sure I eat somethin’?” he asks me, and I nod.

“Something like that. I just like the thought of fucking you when you’re busy doing whatever else.” I’ve liked the thought of it ever since he brought up playing video games while I get him off and I’ve wanted to try it and this seems like the way to do that.

“Fuck, Rhett. Like I’m able to get fucked by you and not focus on that. Cut me some slack,” he tells me and I get it. I get where he’s coming from. But fuck, the thought of him being distracted by something else… I don’t know. It’s all got me going.

But he’s spread and he’s hard and he’s dripping and that’s where I need him anyway. I pour lube on Little Rhett and I’m not slow on sliding it into him. Why should I be when he’s already worked up the way he is? And fuck, he takes it so good and it’s amazing watching him take it in a way that I can’t always see him take my dick this up close and personal. Like I’m inches away from him watching him take it, watching him spread around it and open for it and… it’s killing me. I love it so much, hearing how he moans as I thrust it in and out of him. It’s the kind of shit that doesn’t translate nearly well enough online. I can’t see or hear this well on the other side of the screen. I can see it and hear it now. And I realize something.

This is fucking incredible for me in person.

But the sight of me, fucking naked and hard in the kitchen, sliding a replica of my dick into my boyfriend while I pull him forward to kiss him, even though he tastes like chicken nuggets right now… that’s the kind of thing that  _ would  _ translate well on screen for people watching.

I’m realizing that any jokes, and fuck, any non-jokes and total serious statements I’ve made about us getting some kind of onlyfans or us camming together or whatever else? It’s true and it would work and we have to do it because holy shit, we’re hot together. I don’t have to see it to know, don’t have to look in a mirror or film it or anything. I can tell just by the way we’re doing this that it’s fucking hot and that people would pay for that kind of shit.

I’d literally get paid to do the thing I love doing most in the world: fucking Link. fucking the living daylights out of him. How is this even a thing that people can do?

But I don’t want to think about it right now. I want to think about fucking him with the replica cock, with Little Rhett sliding in and out of him and every time I get it in it’s like he pushes it out a little and that’s so fucking hot. I can do better, though. I can fuck him with that while my mouth is on him and I can suck him off. The way his leg wraps around me is great, the way he hooks me in to draw me deeper and make me taking him more, that’s fucking amazing. I take it until I’m choking and then I pop back up so I can take it again and I’ve got spit all over me, saliva on my chin, on his dick, on his legs.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he warns me and fuck, good, that’s what I want. “I’m gonna, come on, Rhett, you gotta stop so we can fuck,” he pleads.

“I want you to cum,” I tell him, and my mouth is back on him and he relaxes into it, stops trying to stop himself and lets go, and I almost choke on it. It’s wet and hot spurts into the back of my throat and it’s a little salty and it’s perfect and I want him. I want it. I want everything with him and he tastes so good, Jeez, he tastes so fucking good.

“Fuck, oh my god, fuck, Rhett!” he pants out and he’s not eating the chicken anymore, for good reason too.

That makes it easier, easier for me to toss the dick clone on the counter and to grab his waist and tug him off and put him right back where he was when I left the room. I push his legs apart. “You gonna fuck me after I came? Fuck, Rhett, that’s so crazy,” he breathes. I can tell he’s overwhelmed and his cock is twitching, dripping a little still. He shouldn’t still be this hard probably but I think it’s been too long for the both of us and he doesn’t protest the idea of me fucking him even though he already came.

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” I tell him and I push into him, fuck into him, kiss his shoulder and breathe on him and I’m fucking him hard. I won’t last long at all. I know I won’t. I haven’t jerked off in a few days just for this reason, for the idea of fucking him hard. “I’m so fucking close,” I tell him and I’m barely breathing as I fuck him hard, grabbing him and going deeper. He’s standing up, elbows on the counter, and I’ve got my arms around him to pull him back onto my dick.

It’s so much, it’s too much, and then I’m fucking coming. I’m shouting a little bit and then trying to keep quiet because we’re in a fucking apartment and I don’t need us getting kicked out but I can’t resist making some kind of noise as I get off, as I fuck him, as I cum hard and pull out and it takes me a second to catch my breath before I can pull the condom off, tie it off and toss it in the trash can.

“Fuck,” he says again.

“Fuck is right,” I tell him, and then I sit down on the kitchen floor, still naked.


	102. Determined

“I want you to fuck me on camera,” I tell Link.

“What the crap, Rhett?” he asks me, reaching across the booth to clap his hand over my mouth. I probably said it louder than I should have in public, but the reality is, I’m being honest. I want him to fuck me. I want him to do it on camera.

“You already knew I wanted that,” I remind him. “But I’m telling you I want to do it  _ now.  _ Well, not now because we’re eating but I mean, after, uh… y’know, today.” I’m serious. Completely serious. I want to band-aid rip this shit and do it now.

“I don’t want you doing this until you’re—”

“Sure? I know I’m sure, Link. I’ve thought about it a lot and I’ve thought about it for a long time. I was thinkin’ about it back in North Carolina and I was thinking about it when I fucked you earlier. How much more do you want me to think about it before you’ll be cool with me doing it and not argue?”

“It’s not as easy as doing it and then stopping. If you change your mind, babe, that stuff is out there forever. Even under a fake name, you’re always going to have that out there. And even if  _ we  _ delete it, you saw what happened that time I got fucked on cam. Somebody ripped it and uploaded it elsewhere. That shit happens all the time. Do you really want to do this?”

“I really want to,” I tell him. Of course I want to.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Link. It’s hot thinking about the fact that I’m fucking you and showing the whole world you’re mine to fuck. And it’s hot bein’ like, gosh. I can’t explain it. The idea that my favorite thing in the whole world is fucking you, and the idea that you’re my boyfriend and that it’s  _ always  _ hot with us, there’s something about it that makes me want to share that and let other people see, too. Maybe that’s dumb.” I feel self-conscious. Maybe he doesn’t think that’s a good enough reason, but for me, it is.

“You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”

“No,” I tell him. I’m not.

“Good.”

“What d’you mean ‘good’? Good what?” Now he’s weirding me out. He was against this and now he’s for it?

“Good. When this is a thing I do, being on camera, I don’t feel like I can sit there and beg you or ask you. If I bring it up, there’s always that chance you’ll resent me for forcing it. And if I jump on it too fast, same thing. I want to make sure this is your idea, Rhett, that it’s what  _ you  _ want. And it seems pretty damn clear that it is. You keep pushing and asking and damn near begging me to do it. I don’t think you’re actually going to decide you don’t want to do this.”

“I’m not,” I tell him again.

“So then let’s do it. Let’s fuck on camera. Properly. None of that ‘springing it on me last-second that you’re a virgin’ bullshit this time,” he tells me. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” His lips curl up in a ridiculous grin and I give him a small slap on the shoulder.

“You’d know better than anybody at this point,” I remind him.

“We actually going to do this?”

“Yeah. We’re going to do this.”

“Tonight?”

“Even better,” I tell him. I can’t wait.


	103. Angles

This time feels so much different than the first time we tried to do this. The first time, I was too nervous to tell him we shouldn’t even  _ be  _ doing this. Now, I’m completely sure, but he’s being really careful, really sensitive. I know he knows I don’t have secrets from him now, especially not like the massive one where I had to blurt “I’m a virgin” right before he was ready to fuck me on camera.

This is different now.

Except now he’s extra cautious. I figured when I said I wanted him to fuck me on video, we’d do a camshow together. Except no, he’s setting up an actual camera and getting his cell phone charged.

“I’m thinking … if we get on the couch, uh, I think we can put the camera there? Usually if I’m doing a video where I jack off, I just put the one book under it, but if you’re fucking me I can’t decide if I’m gonna need no books or if I’m going to need two of them. Or maybe I need to push the table back. I—”

“Link, chill,” I tell him. He’s stressing out over so much stuff right now and it’s easy, it’s so fucking easy. I know he knows that, but I think I fried his brain a little. “Okay, so how about you stand behind the camera, and I go pretend like I’m fuckin’ you on the couch, and then you see how much is in frame, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says. He seems way more nervous about my first time on camera than I seem nervous about my first time on camera. I don’t really blame him, because I think he sort of feels guilty and responsible for this. I want to tell him it’s not his fault I want to get an onlyfans and do this shit, or be on his onlyfans or whatever. I want to tell him that it’s something like, half of all white twinks do  _ anyway,  _ and I’m pretty sure I would have gotten to it anyway. Not that I’m a twink but like, I’m just saying I swear it’s practically gay culture at this point so he’s got to stop acting like he corrupted me somehow.

“Okay, so If I’m here,” I say, getting on my knees on the cushions of his couch, “and then you’re under me,” I put my hands down in front of me, give a few sharp thrusts against the air until I’m almost hitting cushion “then I pound your ass right here …” I say, letting him tell me what works.

“Shit, stay right there,” he says, pulling the new coffee table back about four inches and putting the camera on it without a book under. “Okay, I think that’s perfect. Don’t move the coffee table now, okay?”

“Why the fuck would I move the coffee table?” I ask him, but then I’m getting up off the couch and sitting down to look at him. “You really gonna do this? We really gonna fuck on camera?” I’m asking him and  _ why  _ am I asking him like he can back out of this now?

“As long as you still want to,” he shrugs, and he looks so pitiful I have to go wrap my arms around him and kiss his neck because oh my  _ god  _ that pout is killing me.

“Do you not want to?” I ask him. “We don’t have to if you’re not into it.”

“No, I mean … it sounded like maybe you were asking that like you didn’t want to,” he explains.

I’m shaking my head. “No, babe. I want to. I really want to.” I nuzzle my nose into his neck and kiss him more, turning his chin to me and biting his lip. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he tells me.

“So what about the cell phone. Am I going to hold it or are you?” I’m asking him. I’m not really sure how well him doing it will work. Sometimes he’s not good at doing more than one thing at a time, and even if I’m fucking him, getting fucked and filming sounds complicated. Anyway, I’m willing to hold it but I’m not totally sure how to hold it and fuck him. I’ll figure it out.

“Well, if my plan works, neither of us are,” he says, shrugging. Then he’s pulling out of my arms and he’s standing on the couch and … not telling me anything, really, but I can see the wheels turning as he hops back down and grabs some string from the kitchen, tying loops and cutting lengths of it off about the same length as his wingspan. And then he’s back to the couch, securing them to the ceiling with tacks and … holy shit, my boyfriend is a genius.

“There,” he says, standing back to admire the loops. One’s a little higher than the other but it’s  _ fine _ . Once his cell phone is nestled there, it actually looks like this might work. “So the idea is when we’re getting ready to, uh, y’know. Bone. You’ll need to hit record and then it should be high enough that it isn’t in the frame of the main camera. Two angles, and nobody’ll know how we did it. That work?”

“Works good,” I said. He’s so smart and it blows my mind. I’d say so much wasted potential, but that implies that people doing porn are wasting their potential and he’s definitely not. I just never really anticipated my boyfriend using his semester of engineering school and his own amazing brain to rig a system that gives him a second camera angle and that POV shot for… like 2 cents worth of string. I feel like he’s using his potential the right way and my mind is a little bit blown right now.

All things given, in a few minutes, my mind won’t be the only thing blown, but that’s a whole different story.

“You ready?”

“Yeah,” I nod. I’m pretty fucking sure I am.


	104. Easy/Hard

Fucking like that is easier said than done, y’know? Even with the cameras in place, then it’s trying to figure out which way to do it. “So you want to get on the couch and me fuck you like this?” I ask, kneeling on the cushion and pretending like I’m grabbing his imaginary hips and thrusting forward.

“That works. We gonna shoot a blowjob first or what?”

“Like for an extra-long clip or for two separate ones? How’re we gonna make a blowjob work if we’re tryin’ to have the angles for the fuck part of things?”

“Could move the cameras,” Link suggests.

“You know what we need?” I ask him.

“What?”

“Somebody else here.”

“Been there, done that, Rhett. All it did was get you all jealous and shit,” he insists. “What, I’m not enough for you anyway?” he asks me.

“Ah, so there’s a jealous streak in there, isn’t there?” Not that I didn’t know … the Gregg thing was a clear enough indicator of that, but I still liked giving him trouble about it because I still felt damn guilty about my own jealousy and freakouts. “Anyway, not what I meant. I meant if somebody was here to shoot us, it’d all be easier.”

“Damn, yeah, it would. You’re right,” he agrees. “I don’t even know who we could ask, though. ‘Hey, you want to film me fucking my boyfriend so we can have more flexible angles?’ sounds weird.”

“You’re the one who  _ did  _ this before? You don’t have any contacts?” I ask. I figured out of anybody, he’d have the best idea of who to ask, but he shakes his head.

“Okay, well, I guess we gotta work with what we’ve got then. How about we make it two clips, then? Blowjob with one angle, fuck scene with the other?” It’s ridiculous how much more complicated this is than “I want to bang, let’s fuck,” but it is. Not that I’m complaining. I think it’s gonna be really worthwhile. I just didn’t expect everything to have to be some big choice. Bareback versus condom, POV angle versus side angle, admit we’re boyfriends or pretend it’s a hookup when titling? It all seemed like a lot to figure out. (For the record, bareback, both angles, boyfriend sex). I’d already submitted my ID and gotten approved to post, and it seemed like this would be the  _ easy  _ part, the part where we fuck.

And it’s not. It’s fuckin’ not.

“You know what? Let’s not worry about it. Let’s fuck and if it’s a good video, we’ll post it. If it’s shit, at least we had fun,” Link finally says. “And anyway, I’ve got a way to get that blowjob and fuck scene in the same position. Just sit on the couch, baby, I’ll deal with it.”

I do what he says and I sit down on the couch, flopping onto the cushion. It takes a few minutes of him telling me to scoot over and him adjusting the camera and shit and then he smiles at me like it’s all good. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” I tell him. And I am, but fuck, I’m not even kind of hard because all of the kinks we’re trying to work out are frustrating. One day, once I move here, we’re gonna get good at this, but right now, it’s a mess.

“Okay, so if you’re there,” Link says, climbing onto the couch and standing, one foot on each cushion beside me to slide his phone into his makeshift sling and turn it on, “and I’m here,” he continues, getting on his knees in the floor in front of me, “it won’t take much adjustment between shots to get us from here to there.”

“Sounds good,” I tell him. Honestly at this point, fuck the filming, him on his knees messes with me and I’m not easily able to think about that shit. All I can think about is how he’s about to suck me off.

“Okay, so everything’s recording,” he says and he reaches up and pulls me into a kiss a little bit and it’s hot and I want to do that and get into it but I don’t want to move too much because I have to keep focused on positioning ourselves just right. If I move to get into the kiss, I fuck up the camera angles. So I let him move around me and I hope he knows what he’s doing, angle-wise, and I feel him sink to his knees and start sucking and fuck, that’s the good part.

He’s really getting into it there, too, sucking me off and jerking me when he does, and fuck, it’s really good. It’s really really good. I lean back and look up at the ceiling because it’s good. I can’t control the moan that escapes my lips because fuck, it’s amazing. I’m moaning loud and I’m hoping it’s okay, and I’m sure it is because it feels good and the whole point of amateur shit is that it’s supposed to be real and normal and everything and supposed to be natural. That’s why people watch amateur stuff and not the professional stuff, or at least, watch it for different reasons, you know? Porn from a studio feels fake but this feels real and I don’t worry about how loud I am or anything. Once he’s on my cock, that’s all I think about. And that’s the good shit, the feeling of him on me and his mouth on me and that’s what I want.

He’s getting into it as much as I am, and I put my fingers in his hair, tangling it and telling him it feels good, and just as I move my hand back away, put it over my head and groan again, my eyes shut, Link yelps and jerks off of me, then collapses to the floor unconscious.

I don’t know how it happened, maybe just because the phone was too heavy for the sling, but it’s fallen and hit him in the head.

Jesus. Can any of this be easy? Ever?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to the social media team at JustForFans for helping me with some of the questions I had writing this fic. Idk where I'd be without their advice and information.


	105. Hooked

Link comes to almost right away, thank god. I mean, it’s bad enough that he’s had not one, but two serious sex injuries now, but it’s even worse that I’m starting to feel like it’s all my fault. I mean, it sort of is, isn’t it? That he’s getting hurt every five fucking minutes when we have sex? Okay, maybe I’m being a little bit facetious. It hasn’t been  _ every  _ five minutes. But this is a little ridiculous, isn’t it?

“You okay?” I ask him. I’m holding him because that seems like the right thing to do.

“Yeah I’m good,” he says, sitting up and looking at me. “I take it my plan didn’t work?”

“It would have, but I don’t think thumbtacks are quite enough to hold your heavy-ass phone. Maybe we need a new plan. Hooks?”

“Landlord’ll eat me alive,” Link tells me.

“If this works, we’ll more than make up for the damages,” I tell him, and he agrees.

“Hooks it is. I don’t have any. We’ll have to go to Home Depot or some shit,” he says. And that’s true. We will. But we still haven’t gotten to fuck yet and, sex injuries be damned, I’d kind of like to fuck my boyfriend sometime this century. I mean, yeah, we fucked like … four hours ago. But let’s be real. We only have so much time together right now.

“K. You want me to suck you off first?” I offer. I know that will lead to other shit.

“You want me to film it?”

“Yeah, but not with some ceiling cam. Maybe we should just do a POV and do the fancy shit once we’ve figured our stuff out,” I suggest. I am wondering, though, if the other camera caught him getting knocked in the head. I’m sort of hoping so, so that way it doesn’t seem like I’m hurting him or some shit if he has a knot on the back of his head suddenly.

“You think the other camera caught my phone falling?” he asks, and it’s like he read my mind.

“I bet they both did,” I tell him, and he smiles.

“That’ll make a killer outtake for twitter,” he says, and I’m kind of marveling at his ability to even consider that right now. Say what you will about my boyfriend, but he’s apparently a marketing whiz. He probably wouldn’t have so many followers if he weren’t, but it sort of astounds me how together he has things. He can be a real ditz, but damn, he’s smart as a whip and it’s a little intimidating.

“You’re too good at this,” I laugh and I kiss him and… it’s hard not to let one thing lead to another from there, because then I’m kissing him, hardcare making out with him as we move to the couch and I’m on top of him, on him, and I almost forget that the other camera, the side angle we started, is still filming us. I’m vaguely aware of it, obviously, but my main thought is his soft lips and the way he feels underneath me and I know I promised to suck him off but I just want to kiss him, to touch him, to feel his skin on mine and hook my leg over by his hip and grind against him and fuck, this probably won’t make for a great video for our onlyfans but it’ll make for a damn good time for us. I don’t even care about the video. I care about making him feel good and as I rock my hips against his I can feel how hard he is and I take us both in my hand.

Fucking for fucks’ sake? I mean, we’ve done that. A lot. But now that we’ve decided that I’m willing to film, it feels like we don’t do it often enough, if that makes sense. It feels like all I’ve thought about since I got here this time was what angle to use and how to make us both look as good as possible on camera, and fuck, I’m even wearing mascara to make myself look a little bit better, I’m not fucking kidding.

So yeah, my main goal is to look really fucking good for him, and yeah, I’m excited to film with him. I have been for months. But it hits me that I don’t want to lose  _ this  _ in the process.

As I work our cocks between us, my hand on both of us because it’s a big-ass hand, I realize that if we’re going to keep this  _ and  _ have a good sex life, three things have to happen. One, I’ve got to move to Vegas to give us more time together. Two, we’ve got to keep fucking without filming sometimes and not let our whole lives become about the cameras, and three, we really, really need a camera man so we don’t have to worry about the goddamn angles or hooks or anything else.

I just don’t know how to get Link on board with that idea.

But for now I don’t have to. I just have to get him to cum, and that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m going to stroke his cock until his back is arching off of this couch because that’s what I want. I want him to feel good. I want  _ us  _ to feel good. And when he cums all over his stomach, it’s impossible for me not to cum too, just based on the look on his beautiful face. And then I’m kissing my way down his body, licking it off of him, and looking up in his eyes and … god, we’ve got to figure our shit out because he is  _ perfect _ .


	106. Basic Hardware

“What if we got a cameraman?” I ask Link as we’re looking for the right kind of hook at Home Depot. “Then we don’t even need these.”

“Hooks are a lot cheaper than a cameraman, Rhett. And then a hook doesn’t have to watch us fuck, you know?”

“People watch you get off all the fucking time, Link!” I say, and then I realize we’re in public and I lower my voice because  _ why  _ did I think this was a good place to bring this up again? “Just… just tell me why you won’t,” I say. “Give me a good reason.”

“Because that’s our, y’know, our time together. I don’t really think bringing someone else into it is a great idea, is it?”

“Yeah, okay. Maybe not,” I agree. “I had some thoughts about it, though,” I say with a shrug.

He sighs and turns toward me, sitting down on some concrete bags stacked up in the middle of the aisle. I sit down next to him because thankfully, there’s a lot of room. It’s a weird conversation to have while sitting on bags of powder in the middle of a hardware store, but here we are. “What are your thoughts?”

“I thought maybe we could set some sort of ground rules for this whole thing,” I tell him. “For one, like what sex we’re willing to film and what sex we aren’t. Maybe if we don’t always make it about filming it, we won’t be so stressed and you won’t get hurt as much,” I suggest. I mean, it’s not a sure thing that he won’t get hurt. The first time he got hurt was in a personal time, not a filmed time. We’re a solid 50% on sex injuries that are work-related vs personal.

“I like that. I like it not all getting filmed,” he admits. “I suggested we film because I thought that was all you—”

“It’s not all I want. I want to have sex with you. If some of that helps us pay the bills, even better, but it doesn’t all have to. We have enough sex that we don’t have to film it all.”

“Will we still if you move here?”

“We’ll have more of it. We get more time together. And if we’re able to make enough money doing that, well… I’d imagine it would save us from having other jobs that interfere with it, right?”

“Yeah,” he admits. When he leans his head on my shoulder I melt a little bit. I want to stay like that forever. Maybe not in a hardware store, but you get it. “What else?”

“What?”

“What are the other ground rules?”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. My plan was to move here, film just enough for us to post a video twice a week and a few photos the rest of the time, and then maybe talk you into a cameraman because I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“You figure out what cameraman you want? You seem pretty set on the idea,” he said.

“Not yet. And we don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I say. The reality is, I’ve already got one in mind: the one person I’m not thrilled about leaving behind in North Carolina. But if I suggest him seriously, I’m scared Link will think I really  _ do  _ like Gregg, and it’s definitely,  _ definitely  _ not like that.


	107. Oh Well, Whatever, Nevermind.

When you only have a few days with your boyfriend, you don’t expect him to give you the silent treatment.

Except now I’m staring at the ceiling and Link isn’t talking to me. I get why he’s not talking to me but it doesn’t make it any easier.

“Hey, Link?”

Nothing. He doesn’t even fucking answer a direct question. I roll over on my side and look at him and he’s still staring at the ceiling like I just was. He still is and I feel like shit.

“You know I love you?” I ask him. He lets out a soft snort and doesn’t look at me.

I don’t like things like this. I don’t like hurting him or making him feel bad or anything else.

The whole damn thing is my fault, too. I couldn’t stay out of my fucking head while we were fucking and now I’ve fucked it all up. Fuck.

“I know,” he finally says, and even though he still won’t look at me, he weaves his fingers in mine and that feels better. “I love you,” he tells me.

“You want to not film?” I ask him. “We don’t have to. Ever. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to do it. You can quit all of it, too.”

“I’m locked into a lease,” Link said quietly.

“So we get you out of it.”

“I can’t do that, Rhett. And … and I don’t want to quit. And I do want to film with you,” Link said.

“So then what’s the deal?”

“You only with me for that?” He finally asks, real slow, like he’s chewing on the words or something, and I hate the way he asks it. I hate that he feels the need to at all.

“No. I’m with you because I didn’t meet you before you left, but you would’ve been the guy for me anyway,” I tell him. “I’m with you because you make me happy, and because film or no film I’d want to be with you anyway. If I don’t tell you that enough, shake me, man. Tell me. Because I can’t see in that pretty head of yours to know what you’re thinking or dealing with. I don’t. But God, Link, I love you. I love you so fucking much that it hurts me to be away from you and I want to film to be able to move out here. And because I’m territorial as all get out and I feel like if it’s on camera where I’m like ‘that’s my fucking boyfriend,’ then maybe it’ll keep guys from hitting on you so much. I don’t know.”

For a long time he’s quiet. Too quiet. He leans over and kisses me gently and I like that a lot. I love that he’s kissing me and it’s okay and it feels good. “So what about Gregg?”

That was it. The comment that sparked all of it. The halfway-through-sex offhanded “Gregg could probably film for us” that fucked everything up. Yeah, I get it. It was the shittiest fucking time to mention Gregg, right when I’m like, inside of Link, but I couldn’t get out of my head. I can’t seem to ever lately because all I can do is think about how it would work, how I could move here, stay here long-term, keep my boyfriend and my best friend and my life and also be here. Link won’t go back so that gives me the option of moving here. And with one stupid fucking comment I almost nuked all of it.

“Forget about Gregg.”

“No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to interrupt our sex to tell me you think Gregg could film, and then we don’t get to talk it out and then you back down. We’re talking about this now or we’re not doing anything else until we do.”

“I …” I don’t know where to begin.

“One breath at a time, Rhett. Like in the store.”

“I want to be with you more than anything. I want to be here. But I’m scared that I’m leaving my best friend at a time when he’s just starting to figure himself out. I hate that. I love you, but I love him in a different way, you know?”

“I know,” Link says.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“If I come out here and things work out, would you ever want to marry me?” That’s not even remotely relevant to the conversation at hand. I just suddenly need to know.

“What?”

“Nevermind,” I say.

“No. Stop. You don’t get to back away from conversations like that. We talk about them when you bring it up. I’m done with the nevermind stuff you keep pulling. I’m done with it when I do it, too.”

“If I come out here, I’m not going back,” I tell him. “So I guess what I’m asking is, Gregg or no Gregg, film or no film, you think we have a shot together? For the long haul?”

“Yeah, Rhett. I do. I think we have a shot at this.”

“That’s why I need Gregg here. Because leaving him behind when I’m not going back feels wrong. And staying here and moving forward, that’s the only thing I want right now.”

“And you think Gregg can get us some hot camera angles?”

“I think we can get our own hot camera angles, but I’d really like for my entire future not to pass out every time we have sex because we can’t get the camera angles in a safe way on our own,” I tell him.

“Your entire future?”

“Yeah.”

“Film or no film?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess you and Gregg have some pretty damn big things to talk about when you go back to North Carolina, then, don’t you?”


	108. Splatter

“I’ve got a new rule,” Link says to me, and I perk my head up from the bacon I’m frying.

“What’s that?”

“Anytime we’re in bed, we don’t talk about anybody else or anything else. And we don’t talk about filming.”

“Okay, so, when we fuck, we don’t talk about that stuff. Is this a call out because I can’t stop overthinking?” I ask him. It is, but I’m okay with that. I’m aware of it.

“No, I mean, Rhett. Anytime we’re in our bed,”  _ God he said OUR bed and that sounds amazing,  _ “you don’t talk about other people or about filming. Even if we’re not fucking. We focus on us or on sex or on movies or takeout or something. But it’s just about us. In bed, that’s our time. No phones. No nothing. When we’re there, nobody else exists.”

“Okay,” I tell him. “Okay. It’s just you and me when we’re in bed.” I don’t mind following that rule. I really don’t.

“Out here we can talk about anything, though. And uh, I think I have another rule that I want to set about Gregg.”

“Okay, what’s that?” He’s got a lot of rules this morning and I don’t mind them. Better to get it all out now, you know?

“What if we tell him not to come until the end of the year?” Link asks me. I like that he’s asking me and not just making the rule without a question. I like that. Plus it’s a damn good idea.

“You mean you want him to come in May instead? I mean if he comes at all. I haven’t even asked if he wants to,” I explain.

“Yeah. I mean if you come in January, then you and I get to do this for a few months before we add anybody else to the mix. It can just be you and me. I want it to be just you and me, at least for a little while.”

“I really like that,” I say to him, and I flip the bacon over because it’s almost ready. For a minute he comes over and he wraps his arms around me from behind and I want to say ‘fuck the bacon,’ and go get back in our bed and not talk about anyone or anything except being with him and fucking him and … oh god, I’m getting hard just thinking about it and his hand is straying down my stomach.

“How do you make bacon with no shirt on?” he asks me. “You’re half-naked. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Nah,” I tell him. It does but it doesn’t. He starts kissing my neck right where it meets my spine and my back and oh fuck, do we really need breakfast?

Just as I feel like maybe he’s going to suggest what I’m thinking, that breakfast can fuck off and we can fuck, the bacon pops and grease lands on his arm. He jerks backward and lets go of me and … and fuck, I got cucked by bacon, I swear to god. Now I’m basically  _ mad  _ at the bacon and I’m turning it off even though it’s not done and pushing the pan aside and I’m kissing his arm where the grease splattered. “Are you okay?”

“Okay, yeah, but I think you’re fucking insane if you think that doesn’t hurt. What sort of psychopath am I fucking anyway?” he asks me, and it’s funny, except he’s laying on the floor grasping his arm all  _ ow, ow, ow, fuck, ow _ , and that’s not fun.

I think he needs distracting.

I think I know just how to distract him.

And I don’t think we need to leave the kitchen floor for it, either.


	109. The Kitchen Floor

On the kitchen floor, I’ve got everything I need. I’m biting at Link’s neck and making him forget all about those bacon grease burns on his arm. I’m running a tongue along his collarbone and I’m kissing down his chest, running my tongue along one nipple and then the other while looking up at him. The way his head is propped on his arm to look at me makes me hard. God, he looks good like this. It doesn’t even matter that the tile is cold. We’re practically already naked and I need him. I’m craving him, the scent of bacon in the air be damned.

And it doesn’t even matter that we’re not in bed like the rules say because I’m sticking to them anyway: I don’t want to think or talk about anything but his amazing body right now. Not about having Gregg come out here. Not about filming this because it’s too good and too perfect and too  _ mine  _ to share with anyone today. Not about anyone or anything but this kitchen floor and Link and the way he’s all I want for breakfast.

My growling stomach can wait until after, and I’ll be honest, I don’t remember the last time I ate anything but his ass or sucked his cock until he was whimpering from overstimulation but I can eat later, think later, do everything later because I’m biting his hip now and he’s bucking his hips upward and I know he wants me. I know how good he wants it and I know how he wants it and he doesn’t even have to tell me. I can just feel it. I can feel what he needs and I’m back up to his lips, biting them as I wrap my greasy hand around both of our cocks, sliding them together and using his precum to keep us slick.

I love the way it feels when I stroke us together like this. Sex is amazing, fucking him into the floor or the bed or the couch or anywhere else is so hot and erotic and fun. Blowjobs are absolutely incredible and we can’t seem to get through a shower without one this weekend. But this? This is my favorite. I love looking in his eyes as I have my hand around both of us, jerking us hard and fast and listening to his moans and tasting his whimpers into my mouth because I’m kissing him and I’m sucking his neck so hard there are dark marks all over it. Have been all weekend. I have a feeling once I’m living here for real, we’ll both be covered in hickies more often than not and I like that. I want it.

I want him. I want forever like this on this tile floor and I want it anywhere and everywhere else we can get it. He’s so good and tastes so good and feels so good and I can’t believe that a couple of months ago we were strangers, a camboy and a virgin, a dude who got paid to fuck guys and one who was paying to watch it.

We feel like totally different people now. We feel like we’re a planet away from the guys we were then and sometimes I wonder if I’ve lost that person I was. And the thing is, yeah, yeah that Rhett is dead and gone. The one who faked being straight because he was too scared to tell anyone, and the one who pretended to be someone else for so long.

I can’t pretend anymore and as I’m trying to decide if I want to suck Link off or sink myself down on his hard dick or if I want to stay just like this, I’m cumming. Tears in my eyes and I’m cumming all over our stomachs and he’s kissing my cheeks as he holds my face in both of his hands and he’s saying “God, Rhett, don’t leave,” and I’ve got everything I want in the world right here. I have everything. I have a whole goddamn world in my arms and I can’t stop stroking until he cums, too.

Shit. I don’t even know who I am. I don’t care. I don’t need to know. I just need to know that I’m figuring it out with Link. I can’t be the person I was before and I’m never going to be him again.

And North Carolina doesn’t fit me anymore so even if I wanted to stay there, I can’t. I lie down on top of Link and I’m pretty much crushing him but he doesn’t seem to mind because he’s kissing me hard and we’re rolling until I’m on my back on cold tile and it doesn’t matter that we just came because he’s kind of grinding on me as we make out and his hands are tangled in my hair and he’s pulling my head back so he can make just as many love bites on my neck as I’ve made on his. And he’s pleading with me, “don’t leave,” and that’s the first time that it’s been really, really clear that he wants me here, too. I don’t know why he’s been scared to say it or telling me to wait or anything else but I can’t wait anymore. I can’t do that. I know I have to finish the semester or whatever but why? For what? I need him more than I need oxygen and I think he feels the same way.

I don’t untangle myself from him for long and as I stand up, I wrap his arms around me and I drag him along with me to the counter. I pick up my cell phone and I punch in the number without looking because consequences be damned, I love him. And who cares what anyone says about it? If they hate me, I never have to see them again, and if they love me, cool, that’s good, that’s even better.

I wait for it to ring and Link doesn’t even seem puzzled by what I’m doing and I wonder if he knows. I wonder if he knows what I’m doing or if he’s just here for the ride, here for whatever, here for the fact that I am so in love with him I can’t see straight, can’t do anything straight, because the second that bacon is done with and we’re ready, I fully intend to shove him against this counter and fuck him against it hard.

But it’s not just that or the sex or anything else and then I can’t think about it anymore because before I can even say hello to her, I say what I need to say before I can stop myself.

“Hey mom? I’m applying for school in Las Vegas. I think I’m going to move out here. I just needed you to know that before I do it. That’s why I came here. College tours.”

I’ll tell her the rest later. Or never. Or maybe ten years from now I’ll send her a postcard from me and my husband Link and let her know then. But right now I’m telling her the important part, and what’s weird is she hasn’t said a word back to me yet.


	110. Hey, Mom

I don’t like how long it takes her to say something, but I guess I get that she’s in shock. I mean, who calls their mom at four in the afternoon on a Saturday (yeah, I know we were just getting to breakfast. We were  _ busy _ ) to tell her that they’re moving? I mean, I get it.

“Mom?”

“What do you mean you’re looking at colleges?”

“I mean I’m looking at colleges and then I’m moving out here.”

“Why?”

I don’t know how to answer that. Why? Because I’m head-over-heels in love with Link. Why? Because I’m going to do porn with my boyfriend she doesn’t know about. Why? Because it feels right to be here. Why? So many fucking reasons I can’t say over the phone so I just say “they have a good engineering program out here, and I think I’d like to give it a go. Plus, I could use the change of scenery.”

“Is this a joke?”

“No.”

“Why Las Vegas? There are engineering programs all over the country. Why there?”

“Because I like it here.”

“Where will you live?”

“I’ll find a roommate.” I don’t want to explain that I’ve already found one.

“A roommate? How do you know he’ll be a good person? Gregg is good! Gregg is such a sweetheart, Rhett.”

“To be honest, mom, I’m really hoping he comes out here, too.” I’m hoping that’ll make her feel better.

“I don’t like you being in a place with so much gambling, and … and …” She’s whispering now, and I can almost predict what she’s going to say before she says it, “girls who sell themselves. Isn’t that legal there?”

“Mom, I’m not going to pay any girls to sleep with me. Don’t worry,” I reassure her. It’s true. I won’t.

“Rhett, I don’t think you’d have to  _ pay  _ but that means that the girls are so easy out there! It’s the city of sin for a reason.” Her voice hisses a little at the word  _ sin _ and I’m trying to hold in my absolute cackling laughter.

“I won’t sleep with any easy girls. Or any non-easy girls. I’ll be good.” Provided you don’t find out that I literally just fucked my boyfriend into our kitchen floor, mom.

“I don’t like this. Why are you going so far away?” The way she words that question says a lot. It’s like she already knows I’ve made up my mind and there’s no talking me out of it.

“Because I feel like it’s a good move forward. And besides, there’s a lot of jobs out here. I think it’ll be a good career move to study and intern here.” That’s not why, but I can’t ever tell her the real reasons, so I don’t. I just tell her what she wants to hear, what she’ll accept. I leave out all the parts about my boyfriend and the gay sex we’re having and the fact that I’d have stayed in North Carolina forever if I hadn’t met somebody worth leaving for.

And yeah, I’ve met somebody worth leaving for. And she’s going to have to understand that.

Eventually.

Right now? She just has to accept that there’s a really good engineering school. As long as she doesn’t ask which one, because I really don’t know, then we’re fine.

“I have to go, Mom. Walking into an appointment with somebody. Bye!” I cut her off before she can ask too many more questions. And then I put the phone down and I wrap my arms around Link. “Well?”

“Welcome to Las Vegas,” Link says quietly, and then I’m kissing him and lifting him up on our kitchen counter.


	111. High Degree of Interest

Bacon tastes better when your boyfriend feeds it to you. Air smells fresher when you’re driving through Las Vegas with the windows down, trying to find the University of Nevada: Las Vegas. Everything feels better when you’ve been thinking about a decision and finally take the first step toward actually making it.

For some reason, just telling my mom made everything feel a little better. Just saying “mom, I’m moving,” was helpful enough that I feel like a weight has been lifted. Sure, there’s a lot she doesn’t know. But there is a whole lot she knows now that she didn’t before, and I’m feeling okay about that.

“So which engineering are you going to study?” Link asks, breaking my train of thought as we drive.

“Huh?”

“Since they don’t have the kind of engineering you were studying, which one are you going to learn?”

To be honest, I don’t know or care. I didn’t like engineering anyway. It was never the degree I planned on getting, and I really didn’t care about it. Maybe I … shit, this is a new start. Maybe I won’t do engineering at all. “What if I don’t study engineering?” I ask Link.

“What are you going to do, then?”

“I could study business. Like, uh, an entrepreneurship degree, or marketing, or straight-up business, I don’t know. Sounds more fun than engineering.”

“A business degree? What are you gonna do with a business degree?”

“Literally anything, Link. That’s the best kind of degree to get if I ever want to, I don’t know, start a business? Sounds more fucking useful than engineering,” I tell him. And it does. What would I do with an engineering degree? Plan roads and infrastructures and all that shit? No thanks.

“I don’t think I want to go back into engineering, either,” Link says quietly. “I’d like to get a dramatic media degree, like, to write scripts and stuff? But you have to have an undergrad degree for it,” he sighs.

“So get an undergrad degree that relates. Film or whatever.”

“You think that’d work?”

“I think you’d be crazy not to try to get a degree in a field you like.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Link answers me, and before we ever get to UNLV, we’ve made up our minds. Business entrepreneurship. Film. Holy shit.


	112. An Eye for It

**_I’m closing my OnlyFans page and migrating to JustForFans. Pssst… you’ll want to check it out because I’m posting exclusive new content featuring my boyfriend!_ **

That’s it. That’s the tweet Link posted and the one I re-tweeted on my brand-new porn profile. As James. Holy shit. Now I’m James. Or, online I am. For his LincolnHigh username, I’ve got an equally silly one. JamesNotDean. Whatever, it works.

So I retweeted it. And added my own little note. And then updated the whole profile with new pictures he took of me. And holy shit, he took some damn good pictures of me. Stretched out on the couch, ass perked up a little, waiting for him to fuck me. Me, sitting on the counter, one leg dangling down and the other resting on the countertop as I held an open can of beans in front of my dick, licking a spoon and looking at the camera, completely naked. Me, in the bathtub, a large rubber ducky we got at Walmart for about five bucks floating somewhere over my cock as I rested an arm above me. That was the hardest shot to get… Link, ever-clumsy, had stood, balancing his feet on each side of his tiny-tub, my legs between his legs, trying to get the shot without falling. It had worked out, because after he’d taken the picture, he’d put the phone down, set it aside, sat on my dick and let me nail him in the tub that was barely big enough for one of us, let alone two of us, but whatever. We made it work.

I didn’t see the photo until after we fucked, until after I was buried inside of him and feeling his mouth on my neck and until after we had almost cracked the bathtub because of how tight it was. My legs don’t even fit in and I swear they were halfway up the wall the whole time he was riding me but that worked because he could lean back against my legs, resting his feet on my chest and using his hands, one on each side of the tub, to let him fuck himself deep. It was hot and it was messy (we sloshed water everywhere) and it was probably pretty loud but who the fuck cares? It was perfect. And yeah, we didn’t film it. How the fuck would we have gotten the camera angle to? But the pictures turned out great.

“You have an eye for this,” I tell him after, as I look at the pictures he took.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You take good pictures. It feels super artistic. We add a little filter or something and I think it’ll go over well.” He really did do a great job of them and I’m really impressed. “You sure you don’t want a photography degree instead?”

“If my pictures are already that good, like you said, why not focus on something I’m shit at and have to learn?” he laughs, but then he seems like he’s considering it, so that’s something.

I don’t know what we’re going to do when I go home. I do know that we both have the password to the account we started together, and now that our ages are confirmed, we’re set to use it. It’s weird knowing I’ve got this porn account now, that I’ll be able to use it, and even if I won’t get to see him in person, we’ll be building this future for ourselves together.

“You want to split the pay every month? Or do a thing where we divide it by what gets views and then split it that way?” he asks me. I’m posting the photos to my twitter, teasing the fact that extras and unreleased shots will be on our JFF later. I shake my head.

“No. I want it all to come to you and for you to keep paying the bills with it until I get here. Pop it in savings. We’ll share it later.”

“You sure?” There’s that implication there that if things go south, I might be mad later that he got all the reward for something we both put in the work for. But let’s be real. He’s the looks of the operation anyway. If we divide it by who they’re there to see, it’ll be him by a landslide. Even if we split it 50-50, what’s the point? I’ve already offered to pay half the rent here until I get here. That way I know I’ve got a place to land when I get here.

“I’m sure,” I tell him. “You don’t think we’re going to break up or something, right?” I ask him. “That’s not why you’re worried?”

“I just don’t want you to go home, change your mind, and wish we hadn’t done this,” he tells me. I kiss him. All that matters is him feeling right about this.

“I’m not changing my mind. Link? I’m not. I’m in this. I wouldn’t have done it if I weren’t. I’m going to see you soon, okay? I’ve got to spend Christmas with my family and then I’m going to tell them I have to be out here on the 27th to get moved in. We’ll spend new years together, okay? Don’t stress. We’re talking what, a month and a half worth of deposits? A month? Breathe.”

“Okay. If you’re sure,” he tells me.

“I’m sure.” I set my phone down and I pull him closer to me. I’m thinking I might suggest we watch a movie and cuddle but he’s kissing me and running a hand down my stomach and maybe we won’t even get to the movie. If we’re this insatiable when I get here full-time, we’ll have a lot of content to share and then a lot of time to fuck and not show anybody. If we’re not, well, who cares? I’m in love with him. And in a month and a week, I’ll be living here full time. Five deposits from JFF and I’ll be here all the time. So yeah, he can keep all of the money. He can pay the rent and the bills and anything else he wants with it.

Five weeks.

Five weeks and I’m his anytime he wants.

I’m counting the days now.


	113. Another Goodbye

Goodbyes are the biggest bullshit on the planet. We’ve been through it and it’s still hard. We know when we’ll be together full time and it’s even harder.

I feel like that's part of the issue. Say I leave, right? What if I get hurt going home? Or coming back? I know that's the same bullshit I was thinking about coming here but I'm thinking about it now too. I'm scared of something happening before I can be with him again.

Maybe that's dumb. Or maybe it's reasonable. Fuck if I know. What I do know is I want more time. I'm thinking about that in the car as we sit there and he basically looks at me and reminds me I have to get out of the car. "It's just a few weeks, baby," he promises. It's true. It's only a few weeks. But that doesn't mean shit when it means saying goodbye.

"Can you come back with me?" I ask him. "Just for a few weeks."

"And leave my apartment as it is? Just ditch it for the month?"

"You can pay rent and utilities online. What's the harm?"

"I didn't pack anything."

"Wear my clothes."

"Phone charger? Camera? Computer?"

"I have all of those things," I remind him.

"You really think I'm crazy enough to get on a plane and go to North Fucking Carolina without anything with me?" Link asks me.

"I think you'd be a little crazy not to," I joke, but I get it. I get why he wouldn't want to. "Forget it. I just want more time. I know it's silly because I'll be back in a few weeks, but … can you blame me?"

"I bet there isn't even space on the flight."

"Bet there is," I say, but I shrug so he will know I'm not pushing him to do it. "Come on. I gotta go in and get checked in. Tell me goodbye inside?" I lean over and kiss him. A really good, long, deep kiss, you know? The kind that lasts. It's hard not to think about the time I almost missed my flight because we were fucking. Hard not to tug him into the backseat and do it now. It's not all sex between us, sure, but we have to be apart for five whole fucking weeks so yeah, I kind of want to be sore for a day or two to remember him by. A little souvenir.

"You know I hate saying goodbye," Link says when I finally let go of him.

"Soon we won't have to."


	114. Now Boarding

"I cannot believe I got a ticket," Link said. He was sitting right next to me, staring at it.

"Can't believe there was one available?"

"No, I mean I can't believe I actually decided to do it."

"You going to change your mind?" He still can. We're checked in, but no rule says he  _ has  _ to get on the plane. He can back out now. I wouldn't fault him for it.

"No," he says. He's holding my hand and rubbing it with his thumb. "I just never thought I'd, you know …"

Yeah. I know. He said he was never going back there. But I said I wasn't gay. A lot of things change when you fall in love.

"Now boarding flight 118," crackles over the loudspeaker and that's us. If we are going, if  _ he  _ is going, it's now. No turning back. I'm standing up and I can feel the slightest bit of hesitation on his part, the tiniest waver of doubt in his mind before he stands up and keeps touch of my hand and kisses it.

"Ready?" He asks me. I'm ready.

"Yeah," I say. "Are you?"

"Yeah." And then he's walking toward the gate. "You sure Gregg is okay with me staying with you?"

"Dude, he is going to be so excited to see you." I don't even have to text to warn him. The way he talks about Link? I'll be shocked if he doesn't tackle him the second he sees him.


	115. Luxury

I never realized how Link behaved on a plane, on account of I've never been on a plane with him. I figured we would talk or plan or whatever, but he was sleeping pretty much the whole time. Zonked out just after takeoff, holding my hand, leaned his head on my shoulder a drooled on me for a little bit.

It doesn’t matter, though. He really doesn’t need to be awake for it. I mean, we’ve got the next five weeks together. And then the rest of our lives after that. Or. Something like that. I guess we could have less than that or we could break up but I sorta doubt that would actually happen. Not this far in.

I guess we’re not that far in. You know what I mean, though, right? Like, we’ve been into each other enough and we’ve overcome enough that I’m pretty sure we’re long-haul, endgame, all that shit.

While he was sleeping I paid for internet. Yeah, it’s a luxury we probably can’t afford while he’s paying for rent there and we’re living here and all that. I get it. But uh, I paid for internet on the flight and then I ordered some shit he’d need. Underwear, just in case he wants it (he doesn’t have to wear it. I’ll probably just take it off of him. But you know, for his comfort. And maybe Gregg’s since we have to share a room). A charger, so we have an extra and don’t have to deal with sharing and shit. Some clothes. Extra ramen to get us by. Honestly I thought about ordering him a DSLR or something but … that seemed like it was probably too much, especially when he has some equipment at home and stuff. I should probably watch my spending.

I just want him to be comfortable. And I want him to know that’s important to me. I get the sacrifice he made by jumping on a plane and coming with me without any warning or planning or anything else. Everything he owns is at home, though, which is insane. I mean, everything. God, I hope he doesn’t get robbed or anything. I hope no one even fucking notices that he’s gone? This was such a stupid idea.

Maybe I need to get him on a plane to go back and get his stuff. He can always come back if he wants. You know? He can come back. Shit. I don’t know. God we didn’t think this through. We’re so fucking stupid and reckless sometimes.

I wonder if I should ask him if he wants to go back home real quick, take care of stuff, come back to me. Course, if I do, he might just decide to stay and then we’re back where we were and why’d we spend so much on plane tickets here and there and all that shit if he was just going to go back?

You know what? No. We did this. We’re doing this. Nothing short of him waking up and deciding to go home will make me bring it up again because we did this for a reason. We did. I just need to stop second-guessing everything. I hope I can actually do that.

**Author's Note:**

> Current Update Schedule: Monday, Wednesday, Friday.


End file.
